To Fight One Foe and Two Hearts
by shaeldryn
Summary: Eragon has been hurt and flees towards safety. Murtagh is ready to comfort, but not to forgive. And both struggle with feelings carefully concealed for so long. EraMur AU. M to be safe. Slash/Incest
1. A noise in the night

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Paolini's characters. The rest is mine.

**Warning:** Language (!)

**A/N:** Yet another plot bunny come to life, settled in an alternative universe. Finally something with several chapters again.

The not-so-nice guy in my story I called Steve, as 'Galbatorix', for example, would not have fitted for someone going to high school. At least, in the US. However, if there had been high schools in Gaul… Anyways, as always, I also differ from the book when it comes to looks. EraMur look like they do in the movie... kind of.

* * *

**A noise in the night**

* * *

Murtagh closed the magazine he had been reading and dropped his pen on the desk. He yawned for what felt like minutes, stretching his arms high in the air. Then he threw a glance at his oversized Mickey Mouse wall clock that had been with him since childhood, noticing that midnight had long passed. He sighed and decided he had done enough for today. Politics – though his favourite subject – was a different matter in college than it had been at school. It often kept him up longer than he wanted and tonight had been no exception.

Suddenly he shuddered. He had changed into boxers and T-shirt hours ago, when the plan had still been to simply take a tiny look on what Time Magazine had to say on the topic of his upcoming examination. Now the chill creeping in through the tilted window made him yearn for warm covers. He chose to ignore the messy desk and headed straight for his bed. With two swift strides he reached his destination, and only when his feet slowly began to warm up did he realize that not only his desk light was still burning, but also the stereo was still broadcasting a late night program of rock music. With a grunt, Murtagh got up again and tip-toed over to the lamp to turn it off. On his way back to warmth he grabbed the remote control for the stereo, which had settled itself on the bookshelf next to the door, naturally as far away from the bed as possible. When back in bed, he turned down the music until it was barely audible, intending to go to sleep while listening to it.

Having a place to himself was something he relished in everyday, because although he was living in a dormitory, he was still able to pretty much do whatever he wanted, including his beloved habit of leaving the radio on at night. His fellow students had eyed him pitifully at the start of the term, now he was being envied by most.

Murtagh closed his eyes, listening to orchestrated versions of rock balllads. It was not what he usually chose, but for the moment it was perfect.

However, a while later he was still wide awake, wondering about what was different that night from other nights. He could not come up with a satisfying answer.

He shifted a little and tried another spot on his mattress, mulling over what could possibly be bothering him. For once he was not behind on the learning schedule he had set himself, and his long term history project was also halfway done. Or rather, his part was, as he knew he would have to remind Thorn about two weeks before the due date that there was actually a project to do. Best friend or no, telling Thorn now would do no good, as he would just dismiss the news with a wide grin. The thought made Murtagh smile. Thorn was smart, true, but even that could not explain how someone with such extreme laziness had managed to graduate, let alone be accepted at any college.

No, on the professional side of life everything was going just fine. Stressful, but fine.

Love life, then… well, there was no love life right now. Hence, that did not keep him awake either. Not even the soft tunes reaching his ears made him regret the current status; he was very well off on his own at the moment. So the only thing left was… family.

At this thought Murtagh stirred uncomfortably. He had meant to call on his mother and brother all week, but had not found the time and peace of mind to do so. So now it had almost been two weeks since last he talked to them, and even if that was not too much time by _his_ reckoning, he knew that in the ever eventful life of Eragon it was a long period. He began to worry. What if something had happened?

Murtagh recalled that Arya, mutual friend of both his brother and him, had labelled the current love interest of Eragon a callous idiot. Back then Murtagh had laughed, replying that she must be exaggerating. His brother was naïve, true, and often acted before thinking, yet he had also a good sense of judging personalities.

No, this could not be the problem, Murtagh thought, but some uneasiness remained.

Then what else? Eragon was gay, after all, as was Murtagh, yet college and high school were two different worlds. And even back in school no one had dared so much as to whisper about the older Rider's orientation, as something about his person always made others respect him. He did not know exactly what it was, but remembered Arya also having found a term for it: Grim Reaper without scythe. This, now, was a total overstatement, and in her defence Murtagh would always say that she had been overly tired the night telling him, but still… Yes, he liked dark clothes, although not only black, and yes, he did not exactly laugh all day long. But that was about it. He did not wear hooded cloaks, had most definitely no connection whatsoever with death, and was also rather well built and not just a skeleton.

Arya. Weird creature, but a good friend nonetheless.

But then, his brother had always been somewhat protected by his presence, as everyone knew they not only shared the name but also deep affection. What most did not know, though, was that this ended whenever the younger tried to accompany the older to a party. Murtagh would have none of that.

So what if now that he was gone someone at school had started to stir up trouble? Murtagh's heart accelerated at this thought. Eragon, though popular with most, was pretty much defenceless when trouble came his way, especially in the form of people not liking him and voicing that aloud. Then again, it was January, if anything of this kind had happened since summer Murtagh would have long since heard.

And anyways, he tried to calm himself, if anything had happened, one of the two, Eragon or Selena, would have called him right away. Even though tight schedules allowed usually only for one family dinner to take place every month, he did not live far away from home; Daret was only about thirty miles from Carvahall. They would always call, knowing he did not want to be left out, and also knowing he would race his car home if they needed him.

Murtagh sighed. He had to rest, and as he could not come up with anything that was wrong, he was truly annoyed at his inability to sleep.

After almost another hour had passed he had finally come to a state of semi-awake, his mind already dreaming. Deep in his unconscious, though, he noticed a strange rhythm in Gun's Roses' November Rain all of a sudden, some irregularity of the percussionist. When it happened a second time a few moments later, he was fully awake again. Cursing heavily he reached for the remote, yet his hand stopped in mid-air when the noise occurred again, clearly _not_ coming from the speakers.

Murtagh sat up in bed and shook his head. Had anything been wrong with the sandwich he had eaten earlier? His eyes, accustomed to the dark, took in every detail of his room, which was lit by the moonlight slanting through the window. Maybe a mouse somewhere?

There was the sound – again. Three rhythmic beats with a pause after each. Nothing was moving in the room. But now Murtagh knew where it was coming from. His ears, freed from his pillow, could locate it properly and the logical part of his mind told him that someone was throwing stones at his window. However, that was also the most ridiculous thing he could think of. He was not Juliet, and there was no potential Romeo that could be outside.

Still, someone had decided to bother him, and in such a way that he had to get up and could not just grab his phone. With another curse on his lips he swung his legs off his bed and scuffled over to the window.

First he saw only the silvery illuminated leaves of the oaks in front of the building and further away the shadow of a cat, which avoided the cone of light of a street lamp, hurrying with its business as it was a frosty night.

"Murtagh!" It was an urgent whisper.

Murtagh immediately pressed his forehead to the glass, and there, below his window, someone was standing. A guy. And Murtagh knew right away who. He quickly opened the window and leaned over the sill. "Eragon! Are you crazy? What the hell are you doing here?" His brother was supposed to be fast asleep in Carvahall at the moment.

"Hey, can I come in?" Eragon was swaying lightly and did not sound his normal self.

"Sweet Jesus! Are you drunk?" The miraculous appearance itself had Murtagh worried already, this realization was even more alarming.

"Just a little." That was an obvious lie. "Please, Murtagh, let me in. I'm cold." Eragon shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Please."

"Of course. Wait at the main door, I'll be there in a second." Murtagh grabbed a sweater and slipped into his sneakers, then took his keys and hurried out of his room. He almost ran down the hallway and the staircase leading to the entrance on ground level, thinking that the bad feelings that had kept him from sleeping had not just been imagination. So far, Eragon had visited him only once before in the ongoing semester – in broad daylight, on a date fixed weeks earlier. Something was up.

He arrived at the glass door and waved at his brother, who waved happily back, a rather dumb smile on his face. Without turning on the light, Murtagh unlocked the door and pulled the youth inside.

"Murtagh!" Eragon sounded relieved and threw himself right at his brother, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry, really, you were right, I'm drunk. Don't be mad." He was not exactly quiet.

"Hush," Murtagh ordered nd held the younger one close for a moment, then hurried back the way he had come, Eragon close at his heels. When they were almost at the room, the sound of footsteps other than his own stopped, forcing Murtagh to turn around.

Eragon smiled stupidly yet again and pointed at Murtagh. "You're just wearing your boxers, did you know that?" He began to giggle. "I thought this was a decent place and-"

"Quiet, Eragon!" Murtagh pulled him into his room and only when the door was closed did he relax a little. Now at least they would not wake anyone. "This is indeed a decent place, but even here people sleep at night." His tone was harsher than he had intended to.

"Oh." Eragon stayed where he was, standing in front of the door, and his shoulders dropped. He averted Murtagh's gaze and looked to the floor. His lower lip began to tremble. "You _are_ mad at me. I'm sorry. Please, I… I did not know where else to go."

"Shut up and come here." Murtagh switched on a reading lamp, turned off the radio, and sat down on his bed, pointing next to him. When Eragon had come over, still looking anywhere but at his brother, he laid his arm around the younger one's shoulders. "I'm not mad, little one. And I've told you that I'm always there for you if you need me, or if there's no other place to go. I'm just wondering what you're doing here, away from home, in the middle of the night…" He did not finish the sentence, noticing something else. "You're freezing! Did you _walk_ here?"

Eragon nodded, still fighting the sadness that wanted to surface. "I-I… there was this party, see? I didn't mean to come here, originally I wanted to… well, and then it went all wrong and I thought I could maybe come here, but somehow there was no money left in my wallet, so I could not take a cab…"

Murtagh tried to rub the younger one warm, at least parts of the back and the shoulders. "Why didn't you call me? You know that after yelling at you I would have picked you up."

"The batteries of my cell gave up on me." For the first time Eragon met Murtagh's eyes, his own glinting wet in the light.

Murtagh pulled him close again, stroking the soft hair on Eragon's head. "My poor, little boy," he cooed half jokingly in a perfect imitation of what their mother had used to say when they were little and had hurt themselves. "Let's get you to bed, shall we? Then we'll talk."

Eragon only nodded once more and carefully rose to his feet. Then he stopped and turned to face his brother. "I've got nothing with me." He looked devastated. "How…?"

Murtagh stood up as well and pushed Eragon in the direction of the adjoining little bathroom. "There is a spare toothbrush in the cabinet below the sink, and I'm sure I'll find some shirt for you to wear."

"Okay." Eragon staggered towards the door.

Five minutes later he emerged again, hair partly wet, looking somewhat refreshed. Murtagh handed him an old Batman T-shirt and Eragon undressed clumsily, almost falling in the process. "Too much," he mumbled, fumbling with his shoes.

"Damn you, Eragon, what did you drink?" Murtagh forced his brother to sit down and peeled him from his clothes, then froze for an instant. "Blood? What the-? Are you injured?" He stared at a scratch on the left leg.

"Huh? Oh that." Eragon was unconcerned. "I didn't even know it had bled. Here," he showed Murtagh his hand, "there was some blood, too, I washed it off. Only gashes, though," he added quickly when he saw his brother glowering, "don't worry about those. As for the drinks…hmm." He thought hard for a moment. "First some beer, of course, and then… some shots, I think, Tequila, and then…uhh…"

"Arms up!" Murtagh commanded, Batman ready at hand.

Eragon obeyed, probably not even aware that he let himself be treated like a toddler. "Well, I know at some point there was wine, I don't even like wine, but there was some and I drank it, but still… something is missing…ouch! What was that for?" He came back to the present and glared at his brother who had just hit him forcefully on the back of his head.

"If this was a bad joke I could perhaps laugh, but you must be out of your mind. Getting drunk, alright, not good, but it happens. Wasting yourself like this, drinking away your brain… I feel like truly beating you up right now, understand me?" Murtagh was angry, not only at his brother, also at himself. When he had still lived at home it had never gotten out of hand like this. What had happened these past six months?

Eragon was by now cowering on the bed, arms pulled tightly around his legs, making himself as small as possible. "I never planned to, really, it just… happened. Nobody stopped drinking, and somehow there was always something in my hand. Someone had… probably Steve-"

"Steve?" Murtagh was towering in front of his brother, shivering in the cold air, but not yet willing to stop the interrogation and settle in his bed.

"Yeah, Steve." Silence. "Oh my God, Steve!" Suddenly Eragon looked at Murtagh and his self-control finally lost the battle. Tears started to well up in his eyes, before he dropped his head on his knees. "No…no…" he sobbed.


	2. A dream gone bad

**A/N:** Again, thank you to all the reviewers, though you have me wondering a little. Here I am, putting an underage and drunk Eragon out in the cold, late at night, away from home, and what do you do? Worry about Steve. I need to buy 'Chapter interpretation for DUMMIES'. Now. And learn where it went wrong.

Moreover, shame upon me! My old 'problem' is back full force: fluffy chapter endings. Horrible! I was so proud on the cliffie in chapter 1 and now here I am. I plead guilty.

And as for those brother things going on that are not slashy: I got two of them (brothers, I mean), older than I am, and watched and studied them almost endlessly during the days of my childhood when they were still something like half-gods for me xD.

* * *

**A dream gone bad**

* * *

Murtagh's anger vanished in an instant. Something was seriously wrong here; the problem was not even the alcohol. He jumped on the bed, pulled away the covers from underneath his brother, and draped them around the two of them. "Hey," he whispered, wanting to change the topic for a moment, "remember how we used to do this when there were thunderstorms?"

Eragon smiled at him through his tears. "Yes," he sniffed, distracted. "Do you have some chocolate chip cookies here, too?"

"No." Murtagh laughed quietly "These days I mind the crumbs in my bed."

Eragon frowned. "I remember you and that Robert guy … you were eating chips in your bed!"

"And you never knock, even if you know someone's got a visitor." Murtagh rolled his eyes.

"I knock. Just not at your door. Which was quite interesting on some days…"

"You did that on purpose?"

They exchanged a very long look, Murtagh unbelieving and Eragon sly. "What did you think?" the latter asked with a grin, which earned him another small slap on the back of his head. "You know, with you as a brother I learned very early that those porn magazines were at least right about the basics."

Murtagh's mouth dropped open. He could not and did not want to believe his ears. "Porn magazines? _Porn magazines?_ Where did you get those from?" He had never known about this.

"Thorn."

"_What_?"

Eragon's grin widened. "You wouldn't be best friends with him if he wasn't such a nice guy. I gave him money sometimes and he bought me whatever he thought I might like."

Murtagh shook his head. He would not have believed it had Eragon named any other person, but Thorn… Even though the brawny youth had also been too young back then to buy these kinds of magazine, Thorn always found ways to accomplish tasks like this. Murtagh decided to ignore the revelation. For now. Thorn would have to answer sooner or later. "Yeah, I remember that day when you came in when we were eating chips. By the way, in a relationship I am very willing to put up with crumbs in my bed if it serves a higher purpose."

The brothers smiled at each other.

However, now one thing long kept buried in his mind was starting to nag Murtagh. "... What else did you see over time?"

Eragon's grin now spanned from one ear to the other. "You won't like this."

"Tonight's the night of truth."

"Well..." Eragon leaned back with pleasure, using the pillow as backrest. "Not much – at least not most of the time. But do you recall that one time when I needed your calculator and you guys obviously just had sex before?"

Murtagh only nodded warily, afraid of what might be coming.

"Yeah…uhm, I had _not_, as I told you, only been standing there for half a minute. None of you had paid much attention to the door."

The older one's face was burning all of a sudden. Please no. "How much did you see? Shit, Eragon, how old were you back then?"

"Fifteen, and had not yet done anything apart from kissing. As for what I saw… saw and heard you should have asked to do it justice."

"Tell me _now_!" Murtagh raised a cushion threateningly.

"Okay, okay." Eragon laughed. "I saw and heard both of you come."

"No!"

"I'm sorry, but yes. I heard everything you said, or well, _moaned_ when you came, too. Hey!" He laughed even harder, fending off the cushion.

Murtagh did not know whether to be outraged or amused. He let the cushion drop and stared at his brother while shaking his head. "I never knew. You were a damn good actor."

"Sure. Oh, and you know what?" Eragon's laughter had died down and was replaced by a devious smile.

"No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me, right?" Murtagh ran a hands through his hair, wondering how they had ended up talking about this.

"Considering the stuff I've been a witness of, you are aware that I'm now in possession of perfect blackmailing material should I ever need it?" Before he even realized that Murtagh had made a move, Eragon found himself pinned down on his back underneath his brother. To his utmost relief, though, he noticed right away that the older one was chuckling.

"I think it's time we set the proportions of power right again." Murtagh cocked an eyebrow, daring Eragon to disagree.

The younger only smiled innocently, before pushing at once with all his force, managing to throw Murtagh off, and then grabbed for the pillow, bringing it down forcefully on the head in front of him.

Murtagh quickly raised his arms in protection and turned over, getting to his knees, ready to wrestle Eragon who was opposing him in a likewise position. "You'll regret this," he snarled before throwing himself at his brother.

"Never!" Eragon replied, ready to prove that these days they were equal.

However, their wrestling ended not even a minute later when they accidentally landed on the floor, both more than aware of the noise that it must have caused.

"Peace?" Eragon gasped.

"Asshole!" Murtagh panted back.

"Love you, too."

They crawled back into bed, now finally lying down.

"Want some water?" Murtagh asked while reaching for a bottle.

"Yes, thanks."

A few moments later they were resting quietly, breathing back to normal, sharing both pillow and covers. Murtagh turned onto his side and scrutinized his brother. "What happened tonight, Eragon?"

Eragon's good mood evaporated instantaneously. He faced his brother and sighed deeply. "I'm such an idiot. No, don't say anything, I really am."

"Why?"

"Steve. It's…well… I've been blind. And I guess tonight was the night to realize that – painfully." The younger swallowed hard, fighting the misery that threatened to overwhelm him again.

Alarm bells were ringing in Murtagh's head. "Did he hurt you?"

"Yes." Eragon wallowed a little in self-pity until he saw the expression on his brother's face. "No, not like that, not physically," he quickly tried to reassure.

"Doesn't matter, pain is pain. I…well, you must be aware that I hardly know the guy, right?" Pangs of guilt made breathing difficult. Murtagh knew he had neglected his family somewhat in the last months. Apparently it had led to a situation worse than he had been afraid of earlier that night.

"Yeah, I know. Don't feel bad, though, with college and all. Besides, I felt like having my own thing and not go through the 'brother-approbation' process. Steve… he is a senior."

"Really? I don't know anyone by the name."

"You can't. He's a new guy at school, transferred at the start of his senior year."

"Oh, okay. Strange. How did you guys meet?"

Eragon sighed yet again, this time dreamily. "It was almost movie-like. I can't remember ever having started like that with someone."

Murtagh felt his heart ache. He had been totally left out.

"Right on the first day after summer break," Eragon continued, "I walked down that row of lockers in the first floor, next to the biology labs. And he was standing there, alone, and just looked at me. I nearly stumbled… there was a spark there. Later he came and sat with Saphira and me for lunch. I was very much surprised. I'd never sit with the younger ones."

"_I_ have sat with you before! Often. Back then, you were a freshman and later a sophomore."

"You're my brother. Age and grade doesn't matter in that case." However, Eragon was strangely touched that Murtagh had felt the need to point it out. "With Steve it just took off after that. He made friends quickly, but still our relationship intensified in no time as well. He was… so amazing. Not the smartest, I must say, but so… strong. Determined. Always knew what he wanted. Got what he wanted. He… in the beginning he was a bit like you." He threw Murtagh a shy glance.

"If I disregard the not-smart part, I might actually be flattered." Murtagh attempted to joke, but in truth he _was _flattered. Eragon had never said such things about him before, at least not when he was in hearing distance.

Eragon smiled weakly. "You know how they say that children often look for the qualities of their parents in their partners? I guess that with us growing up without a father, and you often taking on the dad role, I might have – unconsciously - been looking for someone like you." Emotions welled up in his face and he leaned into Murtagh's hand when it reached over and stroked his hair lovingly.

"Hmm," Murtagh said after a while, "so you've been with him for some months?"

"Yeah, five in total. It was really great at first. Well, mom doesn't like him too much, to be honest, so I've spent a lot of time at his place. He's living with his mom, too. Parents split up years ago." Eragon was reliving those first days, but at the same time wondered why he had never noticed anything. "We had a lot of sex at first, or actually always." He glanced at Murtagh, but the older one was looking at something behind Eragon. "And… he knew so much. So experienced. I loved that. I think it made me blind."

Murtagh vowed not to let his brother know how little he wanted to hear that, how little he already liked that Steve guy, although he knew nothing yet of the event that had driven his brother here. "Blind?" he repeated stupidly.

"He was – even at first – odd sometimes, buying me stuff and such, more than I thought normal. But I liked it well enough. I think I always interpreted it as a sign that he loved me… Now I wonder whether he ever so much as really liked me. Well, moreover he took me along to senior parties - which were great, by the way - and he always introduced me to a lot of people. It was nice to meet them, but somehow it felt as if Steve was… I don't know… parading me? I've thought about it tonight on my way here. He had always done that after having bought me some piece of clothing. Usually too tight for my liking. Steve loved those, though, so I wore them."

"Sounds a bit doll-like for me…" That was the most positive way Murtagh could word it. Whatever that Steve had felt, it was not love.

"I agree, but until now I didn't notice a thing. Didn't want to notice anything. I don't get it, though. What did he want?" Eragon's hand was kneading his short hair, a habit almost as old as he was.

"He wanted to show off with you. To push his ego, probably"

Eragon stared blankly. "Why me?"

"Because you're freakin' handsome, Eragon," Murtagh informed him, "no matter how you dress and style. And I can only imagine that once someone underlines some of your… assets… you might even outshine the sun." When Eragon did not react Murtagh began to worry about what he had just said. The words echoed in his head and suddenly sounded completely wrong.

After a few long moments Eragon asked in a whisper, "Do you mean that?" He held his breath until the answer came.

"Yes," Murtagh replied without thinking, then bit his tongue. He had said enough.

"Oh… I never knew." Involuntarily the younger reached out with his hand and rested it tenderly on Murtagh's cheek, before becoming aware of what he was doing and pulling it back as if he had burnt himself.

Murtagh' breathing had become shallow and he scolded himself a freak. This is so not about you, he told himself over and over. "Steve," he managed to say a little later.

"Right, Steve." Eragon was calming down as well. "As I said, I never wondered, never questioned him. He was a bit bossy at times, true, and even a bit rough in bed, but… I did not mind. I put up with it, thinking I had to pay some price if I wanted to be with someone like him."

"Never! That's totally wrong-"

"I know," Eragon interrupted. "Now I know. Tonight it all became clear." He fell silent.

"_What_ happened?" Murtagh asked sharply.

"There…there was this party here in Daret tonight. He has often taken me to places a bit further away from home, so I didn't mind. Then, when we got here, I noticed most to be a few years older than me, and there were hardly any girls. He really liked it and knew quite a few people. It was in the big house over at the market square, do you know it?"

"Yeah, I think." Murtagh contemplated shortly. "Wait, it's a fraternity house!" He sat up straight in bed. That was one of the places he did not want to see his brother go to. Here in Daret everyone half-way decent stayed away from those guys.

"Really?" Eragon was surprised. "Is there… is there such a thing as a gay fraternity?"

"What? Why do you…? No. And last of all this one. It's a dickhead fraternity."

"Hmm. It… shit, Murtagh, I can't even talk about it." The tears were back and nothing could stop them now.

"Come here!" Murtagh ordered and pulled his brother into a tight hug. He felt the body tremble against his and stroked the back over and over. "You can tell me anything. Don't be embarrassed, please. You know that I love you, and nothing can change that."

Eragon nodded against Murtagh's shoulder. "I ca-can't talk right now," he stammered, "one…one moment." He almost choked on the words.

"Want me to switch off the light?"

"Yes." Still, only after some time had passed did Eragon feel steady enough to tell. "I was in the bathroom," he began hesitantly, "and it took me a while, I was so dizzy. And then something must have been wrong with the stereo, suddenly it was quiet outside. I mean, not really quiet, but I could here many people talking. And I heard Steve. He must have been standing with some people he knew - I think he knew them, I'm not sure - near the bathroom door. Probably one of them was waiting for whoever was inside to finish. Steve said that- Oh my God, I don't want to repeat it."

"Just try."

Eragon drew in a deep breath. "Okay, he said something like: 'Yeah, he's some nice piece of meat, and he's _got_ some of that, too. Big cock, all mine to play with as I like.'" He was barely audible. "The others had laughed at that and made some very rude comments, and then he had said that I had an awesome ass, too, with..." Eragon swallowed hard "... With a tight hole and... and..." He cried harder, burying his hands into Murtagh's hair, thankful that he did not have to face him. "And he said that he had wanted to make me wear tighter pants tonight, so people could have gotten a better look, but that unfortunately he had not managed." He was quiet for a while until speaking was an option again. "I did not want to go out that bathroom door and climbed through the window. That's where I got the gashes, I don't even know how I managed not to break a bone. Later I waited for a moment when Steve was alone, and then went straight to him, being all brave, and told him what I had overheard. He went white, but said it had merely been a joke, that he had wanted to impress them, that I surely knew he loved me… I did not believe one word." He cried a little still, not able to stop.

Murtagh had listened quietly and - apart from stroking his brother - had stayed impassive; also now he did not hush him. He did not trust his voice. If he had not been so intend on staying strong for Eragon, he would have gone mad minutes ago. He felt like smashing his furniture. "Fucking asshole," was all he produced through clenched teeth.

Eragon nodded once more against the shoulder he had pressed his face to.

"Say it," Murtagh urged, following an intuition. "Tell me what he is."

Eragon hesitated for a moment. "Fucking asshole." He tried the words in his mouth.

"Yeah. Dickhead!" Murtagh repeated forcefully.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Eragon growled, tears retreating.

"Well done." Murtagh patted him.

"Yeah… those names sound good," Eragon added as an afterthought.

"The truth does sound good at times. But where were you going to sleep tonight? I mean, what had you planned?"

"Steve's dad lives here." Eragon almost spat the name now. "We were going to spend the night there. Once upon a time I was looking forward to it."

"Now you're here and that's what matters." Murtagh grabbed the younger one's shoulders and pushed him away so that he could see his face in the gloomy room. "You're here with me, you're safe with me. That guy is your past! I know it takes much more than your older brother just saying it, but someone like that does not deserve one ounce of your attention."

His vision still blurred, Eragon produced a very fragile smile directed at the person in front of him. "I'm so lucky to have you, you know that? Nobody has a brother like I do."

"True." Murtagh smiled back affectionately. "Nobody has a brother like I do." He noticed that he could actually make out some details of Eragon's puffy face and became aware that outside darkness was giving way to twilight. "Wow, morning is already breaking. What do you think, shall we sleep now and leave everything else for tomorrow?"

"It… yeah, I'm really exhausted. Tomorrow. What time is it?"

Murtagh only pointed at the wall clock.

"Five o'clock already! Good God!"

"Just call me Murtagh."

"Haha." Eragon tried to keep a straight face yet the corners of his mouth twitched upwards before he dropped his head on the pillow. "By the way," he murmured a while later, "do you know I always wanted that Mickey Mouse clock?"

"Really?" Murtagh chuckled. "I've kept it all these years – and brought it here, too – out of sentimentality. Had I known you wanted it…"

"I'll survive without it, don't worry."

Murtagh set his alarm and finally closed his eyes, exhausted himself, ready to fall asleep. Until he felt his brother shift closer, that was.

"Murtagh?" Eragon asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Could we... continue to do with what else we always did during the storms?"

Murtagh felt his heart melt at the anxiety that showed through. "Sure," he answered, then turned on his side and pulled his brother close. He nuzzled his nose in the soft hair, not caring that it smelled of smoke, and felt Eragon relax, tension leaving the youth's body.

This was heaven. This was hell.

"Thanks," Eragon murmured almost soundlessly before falling asleep.


	3. Making a call or two

**A/N:** This chapter is… hmm… See, I don't like to have characters appear randomly in stories, I always need a reason. This is how I ended up at this chapter.

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**Making a call or two**

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Even though his alarm was one to raise the dead, Murtagh woke only slowly. He heard a grunt of protest from the person next to him, so he reached out to kill the shrill sound. He felt like he had not slept at all, yet he knew things had to be done today that should not be delayed.

"Don't wanna get up," Eragon mumbled sleepily, not fully awake.

"It's only nine," Murtagh whispered. "Sleep some more, if you can." Sure enough, his brother's breathing evened out and within moments he had drifted off again.

Murtagh wished he could do the same, but forced his eyes to stay open. What to do first? Somehow his mind did not want to work. Eragon up close was disturbing, and Murtagh hated the way his stomach felt. There _was_ a reason why he had tried to stay away from too much physicality in the last years, and why he had not minded the contact to his family to be reduced to a minimum in the last months. For a few years now his thoughts had sometimes been improper, a fact for which he detested himself. Yet struggling as hard as he might, absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder. He sighed.

When fully awake, Murtagh reached for his phone. Then hesitated. He knew who he wanted to call, yet he did not have his brother's best friend's number. Well, Eragon would surely be able to fall asleep this quickly another time. He shook him gently, calling his name.

"Huh?" Eragon was obviously in some place other than in the room, but produced a number nonetheless before cuddling closer to his brother and with a contended little noise bid his farewell once more.

Murtagh could only hope for the number to be correct. He dialled. After the fourth ring some female voice answered. It sounded rather old, but even so, he tried. "Saphira?"

"_No, this is Saphira's mo__ther. Hold on a moment."_ He heard her call her daughter. _"Who is this?"_

"Err, Murtagh, Eragon's brother." He had never seen let alone talked to Saphira's mom.

"_Ah, nice to get to know you. Here she comes." _Rustling. _"Murtagh?"_ Now this was Saphira, although she sounded more than just a little surprised. Murtagh could not blame her.

"Yeah, hi. Sorry to call you this early, I did not wake you, did I?"

"_It's __nine a.m.." _She giggled a little_. "I've been up for hours. But why do you call? Hold on, where did you get my number?"_

"Eragon and… Eragon," he answered, slightly amused. "I'm calling 'cause I need your help."

"_Oh." _This silenced her for a moment. They liked each other well enough, but had always belonged to different circles. Their most in-depth conversations so far had been across the dinner table, circumstances that in fact prevented actual in-depth conversations. _"Sure. I mean, Eragon? He is alright, is he?"_

"Sleeping peacefully next to me."

"_What? He is in Daret? Why?"_ She had obviously no idea, which had Murtagh wondering. Eragon and Saphira had used to know where the other was at every minute of the day. "Do you know Steve?"

"_Yes, I do. I hate that boy!" _She was angry now, her thoughts immediately going the right direction. _"What did he do?"_

"You hate him?" Murtagh repeated, checking off a list in his head. Apparently no one liked the guy. "Well, he took Eragon to some party here, got him drunk as hell and then showed what's apparently his true face. Turned out the bastard never felt for Eragon like my brother felt for him." He could not keep the venom out of his voice.

"_Shoot. What an… dasshole," _she hissed, the foul language foreign to her. "_I always knew this was coming. Did he… hurt him?" _

"Broke his heart pretty thoroughly, I'd say." Murtagh sighed, involuntarily stroking the body next to him.

"_Oh no." _Saphira's voice was sad. _"See… ever since Steve came along, Eragon and I have kind of… spend less time with each other. And I was a bit jealous, I guess, especially because that guy is so… I told you I hate him. So," _she drew a deep breath, _"to be honest, and you won't like it, I've secretly wished for Eragon to realize – perhaps even a bit painfully - just what he has gotten himself into, but now that it has happened, I feel so bad for him! You're there and taking care, right?"_

"Of course I am," he hurried to assure her. "And I'm going to talk to that Steve. No one does this to Eragon as long as I'm around. However, I don't want to leave him alone either, so I wondered whether…hmm…"

"_I could come around?" _she finished the sentence for him.

"Yeah, that was the question. One of them. Is it too much to ask of you?"

"_Well, I have__ to work later, but I could stay until… say three p.m.? And what are the other questions?"_

"I want to keep him here with me until tomorrow, I really don't think he wants to face mom at the moment. And I think that some brotherly reunion might be good, too." Murtagh's imagination immediately jumped to the second meaning this could have, and for the thousandth time he thought of seeing a psychiatrist. Focus on Saphira and the day, he told himself. "But he doesn't have anything with him except the clothes he wore yesterday and those stink. Maybe… could you stop by our house on your way and grab a few things?"

"_Sure__. Just what do I tell Selena?"_

"I'll call her, of course. She won't bother you with questions that you couldn't answer anyways."

"_Okay, good. Well, I got my homework all done and… I think I'll just leave right away. Wait, where do you live?"_

Murtagh described the way and she figured it would take her about an hour. "And Saphira," Murtagh interrupted her goodbye, "do you know Steve's last name?"

She thought for a second. _"Miller. Steven Miller. Why?" _

"Can't find the guy without his name. Drive carefully, roads might be icy."

"_I will. See you." _She hung up.

"On to number two," Murtagh murmured, dialling the next number. Soon a mailbox answered and he cursed, but at the same time knew how to get through nevertheless. He called the number again and again, always hanging up right before the mailbox would answer. Finally someone pushed the green button. "Wake up, fool!"

"_Murtagh, what the hell?"_ Thorn was in about every way Saphira's opposite. _"Why do you call in the middle of the night?"_

"It's nine already," Murtagh said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be up at this hour on weekends. They both knew it was not. "Listen, I need your help."

"_Can't it wait?"_ Thorn was grumpy.

"Someone fucked over Eragon, Thorn. He's here at my place at the moment. And I'm more than just a little mad."

"_Seriously?_" Thorn's voice had changed, bad mood forgotten. Murtagh thought he heard him grab for clothes. _"Who would do that? Who the fuck are we talking about? And why is Eragon in Daret?" _He had always had a soft spot for his best friend's baby brother.

"Kind of a long story. I just called Saphira - remember her? She's coming and as soon as she gets here I want to have a word or two with the guy."

"_I'm on my way." _Thorn was obviously up and about now. _"Give me fifteen minutes. I want to meet that ass."_

"No, wait. We can't leave for another hour at least, don't rush. It's probably icy outside and-"

"_I'll be there," _Thorn interrupted and hung up.

Murtagh sighed, but then smiled. It was great to have someone as loyal as Thorn at his side. At school they had been called the 'dream-team', and there would have been worse names due to Murtagh's orientation if not for Thorn being straight as a wall. And no one had dared joking about that fact, for one because Thorn was big and strong and never minded a brawl, and for the other because he was also a picture-perfect jock. Nobody sane would anger him, having a whole team as opponent right away. Naturally, Murtagh and Arya had joked around in that manner, but friends were always allowed to do whatever they liked in Thorn's world.

Murtagh closed his eyes and braced himself. Now came the hardest part: Selena. He prepared some things to say, decided they were stupid, and then he wished himself to be a woman to have a better intuition. As things were, the son-bonus had to be sufficient.

The ringing seemed endless until finally Selena answered. "Hey mom!"

"_Hey honey. __Isn't it a bit early for you?" _Murtagh heard her rummage through cabinets and identified the sounds as storage of food. _"You surprise me."_

"I had set my alarm. All this studying makes it really hard to get up on time by myself on weekends."

"_Studying," _Selena said mockingly, _"so that's what it is called today?" _She laughed quietly.

"Mom! I'm really studying a lot. So…uhm… how are you?" He had no idea how to approach the topic.

The noises on the other side of the line died down. _"What's wrong, Murtagh?"_

"Why?" He had no idea how she had already found out. "I didn't say-"

"_You never ask how I am, honey."_

"I… I don't? I always mean to, but, hmm, sorry mom. Never noticed, I guess." Murtagh wanted to slap himself. Now he had given away his nervousness as well.

"_I know that you love me, don't worry about formalities. Now tell me what's wrong!" _All playfulness had gone from her voice.

"Promise me to stay cool, okay? Everything is fine."

"_Murtagh…"_

Time to get it over with, the threat was audible. "Eragon's here, mom."

"_What? How did he get there? Is he alright?" _Murtagh heard her pull at a chair and sit down.

"Yeah, he's sleeping peacefully. He's not a child anymore, you know. Not as helpless as you always make him seem."

"_He's the baby, Murtagh, always will be. You're the big boy, he the little one. It's…" _She sighed. _"It's a mother thing. Don't try to understand."_

"I won't," he assured with a grin. She was relaxed enough. "To make a long story short, he was at a party here in Daret with Steve." He heard a snort. "The guy showed his true face and Eragon turned his back on him. For good reasons he did not want to spend the night at Steve's dad's house and came here." He thought it sounded harmless enough.

Selena was quiet for a moment. _"I can't even tell you how glad I am that it's over. To be honest, Murtagh, I've never liked the boy, but your brother was so obsessed... I thought that maybe it was time for him to make his own mistakes. But I didn't even know they were heading for Daret." _Murtagh knew this was something Eragon would be in trouble for. _"Just imagine they had split up somewhere else, where would he have gone?"_

Not wanting to create a death sentence for his brother, Murtagh kept silent about the no-money and no-battery-in-Eragon's-cell circumstances. "I don't know, mom, but it doesn't help to mull over the what-if's. Talk to him about taking more care, sure, but wait a little, please. Someone just broke his heart. He needs to heal first."

"_I'll try. Promise me you'll reason with him, too? I never feel good when he's not home at night, and if he's not responsible…"_

"I'll do that." Murtagh grinned. "In fact I've already threatened to give him a good beating."

"_Murtagh!"_

"Brother thing, mom. Exactly what he needs." And I, too, he added silently. "That's why I want him to stay another night. We've spent so little time together lately, and he needs me more than ever. And then tomorrow I'll drive him home, so there won't be trouble with school on Monday either."

The other end of the line was quiet. _"Well,"_ Selena said after a while, _"you must know how much I want him here. Hug him tightly and feed him cookies. But,"_ she laughed a little, _"what boy wants to talk to his mother of all people when he's heartsick."_

"None. So please don't make him."

"_I won't. Tomorrow isn't far off, and until then I might be able to conceal my happiness of Steve being gone. Are you going to stay the night__ when you're here?" _

"Why not? Oh, and Saphira will be there any minute, she's picking up some of Eragon's things and will bring them here."

Selena snorted. "_So Saphira is allowed to see him?"_

Murtagh chuckled. "Of course, she's not yet an embarrassing mother."

"_Careful. I might put too much salt in your dinner tomorrow.__ Promise me you take care of him?"_

"I promise." Murtagh pulled the body next to him close. "See you!"

"_Bye, honey!"_

Murtagh put away the phone. He had said Eragon needed some brother time, but what he really needed was someone who loved him the way he deserved. Someone who would give him all his heart, just as Eragon also gave his heart away to the people he cared for. Someone who would protect the little one and never make him cry. Someone Eragon could fall asleep with, feeling save, and wake up in his arms…

With a shock Murtagh realized where his thoughts had wandered, where he was and where his brother was. Some things were more than just wrong, and he had once again crossed the line. Still his heart burnt like fire. Could that line not be moved a little?

Suddenly his buzzer gave noise and stopped his soul's torture. He shied away from Eragon and hurried to grant entrance. A minute later someone knocked on his door and he faced the impressive frame that made up Thorn, whose priority this morning had obviously not been his appearance. He was dressed appropriately for the weather, but sloppily, and his copper hair was a mess. For a second Murtagh was distracted, thinking as he did so often that they needed to change some things in order for the female world to fall for his friend.

"Hey." Thorn walked right past Murtagh, face torn between his usual good nature and anxiety. "How's everything on the Rider front?"

"Dark."

"Hmm," Thorn said, poking a finger at Eragon's leg which was showing from underneath the covers. Eragon squirmed and the leg vanished. "Tiny looks alright to me. Actually, he's looking good these days, don't you think?"

"He always does," Murtagh corrected, his face going soft.

Thorn turned his head, smiling at his friend. No more needed to be explained. "Spending the night in one bed hasn't exactly helped, I guess."

"No." Murtagh shook his head and turned his gaze away from the angelic face he loved so much. Thorn knew, had known for years, and did not condemn him. That was a miracle, but a very welcome one. "I'm not having anyone hurt him. Never!"

"You still haven't told me what happened." Thorn settled himself in front of the desk, moving around the things spread out there.

"I haven't…" Murtagh began to recount all he knew, concluding that he wanted to talk to Steve.

"Sure we're talking to that dude," Thorn grumbled, absentmindedly breaking the pencil he had been holding. "But not like this."

"What?" Murtagh sat on the edge of the bed, still in boxers and shirt.

"Take a look at the mirror and tell me what you see!"

Murtagh got up and grimaced. "Well," he ran a hand through his dark mane and across his face, "a bit bleary-eyed, perhaps." He grinned at Thorn. "I'll take a quick shower. They guy's last name is Miller. See what you can find on the web."

"Aye, aye, Sir!"

About ten minutes later Murtagh emerged from the bathroom, feeling revived, and, according to his mirror image, looking better, too. "Found anything?"

"Yeah," Thorn drawled, still fixed on the screen.

"Thorn! That's your practice schedule!"

"Relax, Taggy. I know all about the Miller's in this town. There's only three to be considered." Thorn waved a little note sheet in front of Murtagh's eyes. "Got their addresses, shall we go?"

Murtagh was putting on his shoes. "No, we're waiting for-" The buzzer went off again. "Speak of the devil." He opened the door and waited, and after a few moments waved at someone coming down the hallway. "Hey, Saphira. I'm so glad you could come."

The girl set down the bag she was carrying and tugged her long, blond curls behind her ears. "Hey you!"

They looked at each other, moving close but pulling back again, then smiling nervously. Not the hugging stage yet. "Come in," Murtagh offered und picked up the bag. "This is Thorn." He pointed at his friend. "Remember the famous linebacker?"

Saphira hardly listened to him. "Hi, Thorn." She was glowing.

"Hey…Saphira." Thorn had gotten up and tugged both at his hair and sweater. He threw Murtagh a pleading glance.

"Yeah," Murtagh said slowly, looking from one to the other. "Again, thank you for coming. We'll be back in a few hours. Think you'll manage?"

"Sure…" Sahira focused on him, a light blush covering her cheeks. "Go ahead, get that guy's head. I'll take care of your brother."

"Great. Let's go!" Murtagh grabbed wallet, cell, and keys and left. Behind him, he heard Thorn mumble something incomprehensible, and then they were out of the room, door closed. "Now what was that?" Murtagh asked, smirking at Thorn.

"Nothing!" The answer came too fast. "Let's go and find the correct Miller." Thorn walked off.

Murtagh was set on the right track again and his expression darkened. "Yeah, find him and see what he's got to say. Ready to rumble?"

Thorn squared his shoulders while they were walking through the main door. "Always!"


	4. Of damsels and dragons

**A/N: **Wow. I would lie saying that I don't like the response I'm getting :) Again, thank you everyone and I truly hope I didn't forget anyone in my review replies.

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**Of damsels and dragons**

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"Hey, sleepy." Saphira jumped on the bed and tousled through the blond hair which was showing above the covers. "Time to get up!" It had been a while since last she had woken her friend, but his ability to sleep on and on was unforgotten. However, Eragon surprised her.

"Saphira?" The voice was throaty. "Where am-? What are you-? Shit." Eragon sat up straight in bed and stared at her, then his head threatened to explode and he lay slowly back down, covering his eyes with one hand. "Hey, Saph."

"Hangover?" she asked with a grin.

Eragon did not answer but instead peeked with one eye through his hand. "It's really you." He was confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Your brother called." Saphira handed him some water and an aspirin, which he took gratefully. "And told me you were in desperate need of some comfort. So I came."

Eragon was still puzzling together the pieces. "Have I slept long? What time-? Ah." He had a quick, silent conversation with Mickey Mouse. "Okay, I haven't."

Her blue eyes were sparkling with humour. "I know. You look horrible."

Eragon grimaced. "How I've missed that…" He turned serious and they exchanged a long look, before Saphira came flying into his arms. "I've missed you so much," Eragon whispered and hugged her tightly. How had he managed without her for so long?

"I've missed you, too," she said simply.

After a while Eragon moved back. "Alright." He reached up with one hand and felt for his hair. "Honestly, how do I look?"

Saphira's face went from soft to impish again. "Horrible, I told you. And you stink."

"Do I?" Eragon sniffed at his arm. "I can't smell anything… Oh no, Murtagh!"

"Seems like he didn't mind too much."

"Yeah, but… Oh my God! And he saw me, too, looking like this!" He was horrified.

"You looked better asleep," Saphira reassured.

"Really?"

Saphira laughed. "Yes, you did. And there's no need pondering about it. Hope is the last to die, true, but it has to die at some point. Here." She got up and walked to the sport bag she had brought. She opened it and produced fresh clothes, throwing them onto the bed and at a confused Eragon. "Why don't you take a shower and I take care of breakfast?"

"I… err… probably should do that." He stood up slowly, blood pulsing in his veins, creating the feeling of hammers hitting his head. "Got another aspirin?"

"Yes, but wait for this to take effect first. And be careful in the shower… don't slip or anything." Saphira was her usual organized self and made the bed, fluffing the dark brown covers and pillows.

"Wouldn't you come and rescue me?" Eragon asked with a grin while collecting his clothes.

"And see you naked? Not if I can't help it. So please don't turn into a damsel in distress." She was gathering his dirty clothes that were spread over the floor and dumped them next to the bag.

"Ooohhh," Eragon chirped, doing his best to sound like a damsel, and closed the bathroom door not one moment too late. From the corner of his eyes he had seen dirty socks flying his way.

Once in the shower he was slowly turning human again, relishing the warm water running down his body. His gashes burned, especially the one in his hand when he shampooed his hair, but it was not life-threatening. So he bit his tongue at the initial sharp pain, rather wanting to die before making a real damsel sound and have Saphira come running. Gay or no, there were some things he did not want a female friend to see.

He closed his eyes and let the water patter on his head. Time to face the facts. His heart clenched together when his thoughts turned to Steve. He had loved him. For the first time in his life he had loved someone outside of his family or closest friends. Steve – the greatest guy at school, the light of his days, the strong, decisive-

Stop.

Last night was completely back in his mind and Eragon almost heard Steve say the things again. Those phrases, where each and every single word had pierced his heart, proving wrong all of what he had thought Steve was feeling. What Steve had told those boys… Eragon just did not understand. Had his boyfriend - ex-boyfriend, he corrected himself - not even valued him this little bit? That there was no love he had noticed right away yesterday, and it had hurt - so much! But realizing that the other had no respect for him whatsoever, that he seemed not even to care for him as a friend… _that_ had been the knockdown blow.

Eragon knew that a lot of his current feelings were due to self-pity, but he simply did not comprehend how Steve could have done that. Those things were _most_ private. No one was to know.

He knew the water was now mingling with his tears. Why had they been at that party? Why had he been blind for so long? Why had Steve had to come to Carvahall of all the places? And why, oh why, could life not have been different from the start, so he could have pursued his dream and would have never so much as looked at Steve, being with someone far better…?

"Wrong!" a little voice in his head yelled at him. "Freak! Sicko!" He turned off the water, and in the sudden quiet the thought of seeing a psychiatrist crossed his mind. He should talk to Saphira about it. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel.

When he was done in the bathroom, satisfied with the blond, blue-eyed person smiling back at him from the mirror, the puzzle was finally complete. This left a lot of questions, though. "Saph, tell me, where is Murtagh?" Eragon had opened the door, but was still busy hanging up the wet towels. "When is he coming back? How much has he told you? And why, after all I did, or not did, are you here?" He faced the room and saw her sitting on the bed, fruits and rolls and peanut butter in front of her.

"There you go, handsome," she said approvingly, pointing a knife at him before burying it in the peanut butter jar. She spread a generous amount on a roll and handed it over to him. "I am here, because I'm your friend. Best friend."

"Saphira!" Eragon could not eat yet and just stood next to the bed, watching her, his chest tight. "I've totally neglected you. And now you are so… caring. Like always. I don't deserve that."

Saphira looked up at him, a distant smile on her lips. "You needed me, Eragon. What kind of friend would I be, disregarding a lifetime for the sake of a few months? Besides, everyone should be allowed to make mistakes. Why not you?" She took a big bite, then talked with her mouth full. "As for how much I know… not much yet. But from what your brother told me, I concluded that Steve is even worse than I feared. And Murtagh, by the way, should be back at three at the latest, 'cause that's when I have to leave for work. The last question…" she hesitated, carefully keeping her voice even, "Murtagh wanted to talk to Steve. I guess that's what he and Thorn are doing at the moment." She watched Eragon, worried that he might not take it well.

Eragon simply dropped on the chair in front of the desk and stared into nowhere. "Talk to Steve?" he echoed. Then he looked at Saphira and his voice was sharp. "Why is he doing that? I didn't ask him to. He shouldn't. What if-"

"Shut up!" she silenced him, as surprised as he was about her tone. "Murtagh… he was angry, I think. And worried. He loves you, he won't accept anything like this. And you of all people should not be defending Steve."

Eragon's anger evaporated just as fast as it had come, being based only on a habit. "You're right." He took the first tentative bit of his roll, and once he had realized how good something nutritious felt in his stomach, his usual appetite was back. They ate in thoughtful silence until all the rolls were gone.

Saphira handed Eragon an apple. "Here. Some vitamins."

He glared at her but took it nonetheless. It was futile arguing with her most of the time and downright suicidal when she was so obviously right. "I guess I should tell you what happened…" He came over to the bed and sat next to Saphira, cross-legged, buying some time eating the apple.

"Yes, you should," she said with an encouraging smile and reached out for his hand to squeeze it.

The physical contact indeed helped Eragon give another account of the events. Saphira held his hand during the whole time, and kept quiet at first. Once he recited Steve's words, though, she jumped up and paced the room, something close to a growl escaping her mouth.

"Don't even think of forgiving him or… or going back to him," she snarled when he was done, still not able to slow down.

"I'm not thinking about it, Saph." Eragon was surprised how calm he was. He felt a growing distance already to what had happened, and to Steve, too, a process he had thought would take weeks.

She had not heard him. "I swear, if I get to lay my hands on him, he will be happy if… if… if I only pull at his hair…" Saphira stopped and turned towards Eragon, resignation dominating her formerly furious face. "How could someone like me threaten someone like him?" A little grin fought its way to the surface. "Seriously, all I could do – and _can_ do – is yell at him."

Eragon smiled back. "And I'm sure I will be worth remembering." He frowned. "I guess my brother is taking care of the rest…"

"Nah." She waved one hand dismissingly. "He doesn't beat people up, does he?"

"No," Eragon agreed, "apart from beating _me_ up, that is."

Saphira laughed. "I'm sure you deserved it every single time!"

"Saphira!" He tried to be outraged but instead had to laugh as well. "Not _every_ time. But what about Thorn? He never minds trouble."

"Thorn." Her eyes flashed. "I met him this morning. Somehow I had totally forgotten about him. He… he is kind of cute, I think…?" She bit her lip and watched her friend.

"Ah," was all Eragon said and he tried to keep a straight face to learn more from her. It worked.

"Well," she immediately defended herself, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink, "it was just that this morning, with all the excitement and such, I saw him for a second and he was… nice to look at?"

Eragon chuckled and waved her close. She came to stand in front of him and he took both her hands in his, being on eye-level in his sitting position. "No need to be all nervous. He is good-looking. Not my type, but still attractive. Don't feel bad telling me of all people."

"Hmm.." She thought about it briefly. "It's just a bit ridiculous, isn't it? I don't know him. I could tell you something about his athletic career at school, I guess, but that's about it. And when I've seen him at your house in the past… I never really noticed him."

"Saphira," he said soothingly, "it's okay. Seems like you became infatuated rather quickly, hmm? But I think I can't tell you that much about him, at least not much that might be interesting. We should wait for Murtagh to return. He knows all there is to know."

Saphira nodded. "You're right, and I shouldn't be so…" she left the sentence unfinished. "Eragon!" Shock showed in her face and whole posture. "This is so not about me! I'm sorry, I got totally carried away."

"It's alright," he smiled at her and then shrugged . "I really don't have anything left to tell you. Right now I am… relaxed, I think. Steve is in my head, but somewhere in the back of it, and I only hope Murtagh won't… I don't know. Do something stupid. So," he pointed with his chin at the bag, "I can tell it's not empty yet. What else did you bring?"

Saphira laughed out loud. "I didn't want you to see while I was still here." Nevertheless she walked over to the bag and pulled out a stuffed Winnie the Pooh.

Eragon stared at her in disbelief. "You did not bring Winnie!"

"I did! He was waiting on your bed for me take him along."

"Murtagh's gonna laugh at me!"

Saphira handed him the stuffed animal and Eragon hugged it involuntarily to his chest. She laughed again. "See? Winnie's good for you."

Eragon only glared at her and refrained from saying anything further.

Saphira sat next to him again and chose not to linger on the topic. "I would never have thought Murtagh had a nice room like this." She looked around appraisingly.

"He's got taste," Eragon said without thinking, but he liked the room as well. The walls were painted in a deep red, and the furniture – just like the bed and everything on top – was mostly dark brown. The room had an earthy touch to it, lightened up only by the large, white flokati rug which covered most of the floor. It was a very cozy mix of things. Suddenly Eragon remembered something. "Thorn once said that if he was a dragon, he would make this his cave." He knew Saphira would normally laugh on hearing something the like. Yet he had an inkling she would make an exception when it came to Thorn. He was right.

Saphira looked at him for a moment, face snotty at first, but soon pensive. "Well, I can kind of relate to that, I guess," she said slowly. "If _I_ was a dragon, I might like this room as my cave, too." She was warming up to the idea. "Or maybe I'd paint it blue…yeah, I'd paint it blue."

"Saphira." Eragon drew her attention back to him, keeping his expression even. "I hate to break it to you," he told her gravely, "but you're not a dragon. Neither is Thorn. So the fantasy of living happily as dragonish neighbours is not-"

"Leave it!" she interrupted, poking her tongue out at him. "You brought this up."

"You jumped right in." He was laughing.

"Just shut up! What about saying something constructive for once?"

Eragon contemplated that. "Like what we're going to do until Murtagh comes back?"

"For example."

"Hmm." He thought for a moment. "Hey, you know what we haven't done for ages? Winter ice-creaming!" The memory of their old tradition brought a smile to both faces.

"It's only been a year, you know, just last winter." Saphira's sober reaction earned her another glare. She giggled. "But it's a good idea. Is there even good ice-cream in Daret?"

"I don't know. We could call Arya…"

"Yeah!" Saphira clapped her hands in excitement. "I haven't seen her for so long."

"Saph." Eragon chuckled while reaching for his cell. "You talk via instant messenger almost daily."

"Doesn't matter!"

"Okay, okay. Oh, here she comes." He motioned to Saphira and she pressed her ear to the phone as well. "Arya. How are you?"

"_Eragon." Arya_ was out of breath. _"I'm sorry, I think I can't tell you anything you don't know yet."_

"What do you mean?" Eragon looked at Saphira, whose face was blank. She shrugged her shoulders.

"_You… you didn't hear what just happened?"_ Arya talked so fast it was nearly impossible to understand a word. _"I'm really a bit worried. I'm going to the station right now."_

"Arya!" Eragon had a weird feeling in his stomach. "No, we – that is Saphira and I – _don't_ know what happened." He felt his friend twitch nervously at his side.

"_Oh my God! Murtagh, it's Murtagh. He hasn't called you?"_ Arya did not think twice. _"He and Thorn… they are at the police. We'll talk later, okay?"_

"Wait!" Eragon's heart was racing. "I'm…we're in Daret. We got a car. Where is the police station?"

"_5__th__ street, across from the Daret Observer, that large, red building downtown. Do you know it?" _

"We'll find it."

"_Okay, gotta go. See you there." _She hung up.

Eragon put the phone down in slow motion, eyes locked with Saphira's, who stared at him in shock.

"Maybe we shouldn't rush…" she tried hesitantly.

"Saphira! They are at the police." Eragon leaped up and dashed for his shoes. "We're going. Now!" he called over his shoulder. "Hurry!"

She got up, knowing there was no way stopping him, a worried expression frozen on her face.


	5. Let it snow

**A/N: **

**1.** I didn't feel like throwing all the background of the story at you at once, so there are some bits and pieces here and there. I don't mean to confuse you, though, the basic facts will all be covered sooner or later. I'm telling you this so that the little information here about Murtagh's dad won't leave you bewildered. No, in the case of Eragon there was not only a stork involved… you'll find out later.

**2.** This took me quite a while… why? Steve. Even though he is the 'bad guy' of this story, no person in real life is only bad. Most are mainly normal except that sometimes they show their bad face. I've hardly ever come across an evil character who was _only_ evil and at the same time convincing (Galbatorix is a joke, if you ask me, such a wannabe). The only author that comes to my mind right now who could pull it off was Tolkien with Sauron. So I had kind of a hard time creating a 'normal' boy with potential for being bad.

**3.** This is not a crime story :)

* * *

**Let it snow**

* * *

"Please tell me we wouldn't be doing this if someone had simply broken up with him." Thorn waited patiently at the curbside while Murtagh fumbled with his keys. The sky was clouded and the first snowflakes were making their way to the ground

"Of course not, why would you think that? Shit." The keys had dropped to the ground and Murtagh bent down to retrieve them. He should have paid the little extra price for automatic locks, but then again, he had never before had problems like this.

Thorn watched him pitifully, unused to Murtagh being a bag of nerves. "Err… What about I drive? You don't seem to be in a good-"

"_I_ drive," Murtagh interrupted, finally managing to grant them entrance into his black Mustang, a car which he had fought for vigorously a few years back. His father had left behind enough money for the unborn child when he had abandoned Selena, buying his way out of the mess he had created. Selena had later – rightly – argued, though, that it was only to be used for college. However, once Eragon had backed Murtagh, they had entered the long road to victory. Murtagh had in turn let his brother borrow the car often, both of them aware that Eragon had nothing the like waiting on the bank.

"I'm not thinking anything, just wanted to make sure." Thorn turned on the air conditioning. "After all, we're not talking about _any_ brother here."

"I know, I know." The well-known action of driving and paying attention to the traffic was calming Murtagh down. "Honestly, Thorn, this morning… it was bad."

"Not good.

"No, not good." He watched the street signs rushing by. "Okay, where was the first address again? Winchester Lane?"

Thorn glanced at his notes again. "Yeah. Almost there. Turn right at the lights, let's stop at the bakery."

Murtagh threw him a quick glance. "You're not serious, are you?" When Thorn only grinned he turned right.

"Sorry, Taggy, I'm hungry. 'Never fight on an empty stomach,' dad always says."

"Hurry!" Murtagh stayed in the car, waiting. He rested his head on the steering wheel, trying to focus. The decision to go and see Steve had suggested itself immediately, and he knew he had to act now or forever regret it, but he had still no idea of what was actually going to happen once they found the guy.

Thorn came back, snowflakes melting in his hair, and offered him a sandwich, but Murtagh declined. "Thorn, what are we going to do with Steve?"

His friend gave him a blank look. "Talk to him maybe? Pretend to be all bad boys, you can be Martin Lawrence if you like, and I'll do the Will Smith part. Both in white, of course." He grinned at Murtagh who could not help it but smile back. "Nah, I don't know. We'll think of something to say when we get there."

"Which is now." Murtagh headed to a small community parking space and they got out of the car, scanning the neighbourhood. There were nice, two-story houses everywhere, with front gardens that probably looked pretty in summer. Now, however, there was a thin layer of white covering everything. They began to walk down the street towards a grey house.

"Doesn't look like a place where an ass would live," Thorn decided. "Perhaps a daddy ass, though."

Murtagh frowned, only half listening. "Yeah, and as we're able to tell the character of a person by the house he lives in…" He could hear the snow crunching beneath their feet until they came to a halt. "Thirty-nine. Ready?" They had arrived at a dark blue front door.

"Ready." Thorn was serious now, expectant.

Murtagh took a deep breath and rang the bell. It sounded loud in the winter world, where all the outside sounds were muted. They waited. And waited. "Should I ring again?" Right then, he heard someone on the other side, and then the door opened a fraction. There was an old man peering out at them, holding something in his hand hidden from their view by the wall.

"What do you want?" a raspy voice asked, the frown on the man's face deepening. "I'm not expecting anyone!"

"Hello, sir… Mr. Miller?" Murtagh was already sure that they were wrong.

"Yes." The man's expression turned more unfriendly by the second.

"We're looking for Steve, and were wondering-"

"Ha!" The man barked. "There's no Steve in this house. Now get the hell away from here."

Thorn stepped forward a little bit. "Do you _know_ a Steve Miller?"

"No!" The man yelled and slammed the door shut.

The world seemed so silent afterwards that Murtagh and Thorn only stared at each other for a moment, utterly bewildered.

"What on earth was that?" Thorn scratched his head.

"I don't know," Murtagh said, slowly walking back to the car. "But I would not have dared asking that last question. Seems like he's not very fond of visitors."

"Yeah." Thorn chuckled. "It felt like the guy was hiding a gun in his hand, don't you think?"

Murtagh laughed quietly, the last traces of disbelief leaving his face. "In fact I do. Creepy!"

Thorn looked back one last time. "Uhm… I think he's watching us from the corner of one window." He swallowed.

Murtagh only increased his pace, and they were back in the car in no time, hurrying to leave the place.

About fifteen minutes later, they walked down the footpath to a similar house in a similar neighbourhood, not as carefree as the last time.

"This is it," Thorn said, no doubt in his voice.

Murtagh nodded. "Yeah, I think so, too… should we maybe go check if there's a backdoor?"

"Jesus, Murtagh!" Thorn stopped short of giving him a slap across the back of his head. "This is _not_ an FBI investigation. Just ring the bell."

Murtagh nodded again, walked the last steps to the door and pushed the little black bell button, all in one fluid motion. After that he took a step backwards, coming to stand next to Thorn.

Within moments the door opened and a youth was looking out at them. He had dark brown hair which had grown out a bit, and wore light jeans and a casual, white sweater with an orange collar showing from a shirt underneath. "Hello?" His voice was smooth; he sounded curious yet untroubled.

"Steve Miller?" It was Thorn talking, Murtagh had frozen, eyes focused on the – admittedly - handsome person in front of them.

The young man looked from one to the other, unsure what to make of the situation. "Do I know you?"

"You would." Thorn snorted. "If you weren't moving all the time, that is." They knew only of one move, but when the statement was not denied his assumption proved itself true.

Steve obviously did not like being in the dark and his expression turned slightly haughty. "And then I'd know you from where?"

Thorn smirked at him, eyes icy. "Carvahall High. We graduated last year. My name is Thorn."

"Thorn," Steve tried to place him. After a second he nodded, having matched the name to the guy who was on so many pictures on the school walls. Jock. By now he could tell there was enmity in the air, but he did not yet know the direction it was coming from. "And you are…?" he addressed Murtagh, surveying the older boy in his dark jeans and black winter jacket, whose stare sent a shiver down his spine. When there was no immediate answer, Steve became impatient, his fiery nature showing through. "Look, you guys, I don't know what you want, but I have had a tough night, where I already had to deal with one idiot, so if you don't mind I'll be inside again to get some rest." He turned around and was about to close the door.

"My name is Rider," Murtagh said quietly and his opponent stopped dead, "and I'd really like to know who you were referring to right now." He had clenched his hands into fists and his breathing was shallow.

Steve turned around slowly, face cool, eyes blazing. "Rider, you say." He came closer, leaving the front porch. Then he made a show of looking Murtagh up and down, grunting. "I should have known…"

In an instant Murtagh was at his throat, grabbing his sweater with one hand and bringing his face very close. "Watch yourself," he snarled, "don't you dare screw with a Rider, scum!" He tilted his head to the side. "You won't come out of it unscathed, you know?"

"Murtagh," Thorn called him softly, "don't go down to his level."

"Right." Murtagh laughed a short, bitter laugh and let go of Steve, retreating a little.

Steve was panting and glowered at Murtagh, then threw a quick glance over his shoulder. "I'll be right back!"

"Hey!" Thorn was quick and grabbed his arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Getting a jacket and making sure my dad won't see you," Steve sneered.

The moment he vanished behind the door, Thorn turned to Murtagh. "Backdoor perhaps?"

"He'll come back." Murtagh was calm now, thinking he had an idea of the boy. And true enough, half a minute later Steve emerged again, now outfitted with jacket and scarf. He seemed to have relaxed somewhat, facing the two arrogantly.

"I never told you it was nice to meet you," Steve began, eyes set on Murtagh, "and I guess I never will. What do you want from me?"

Murtagh shook his head. He could play games as well. "Oh, you don't know, do you?" he asked mockingly. "But why am I even asking? You're not the smartest guy, after all. Want me to help you out here?"

Steve began to circle his two unbidden guests, hands folded behind his back. "Yeah, help me out here, please. I'm too stupid to figure it out. Oh, wait," he stopped in his tracks, "could it possibly be because of that little brother of yours?" He had raised both his eyebrows and now his lips turned into a smirk. "Don't tell me you have come to whine as well?"

"Too far," Murtagh whispered and hurled himself at Steve. The impact of the collision had them both tumbling to the ground, Murtagh's hands locked on Steve's collar. Then the younger one pushed him off and both scrambled to their feet, opposing each other.

"Whoawhoa," Thorn called and jumped between the two, right into Murtagh's line of vision. "He's just an ass, don't do this."

"Thorn," Murtagh panted, his body shaking from suppressed rage, "just leave this to me. I want to punch that fucking, smiling face."

Thorn looked around and true enough, Steve was smiling , yet also catching his breath. "He must be truly dumb to do it. But be careful, the neighbours…"

Murtagh tore his gaze away from his friend and noticed that indeed there were neighbours stopping on their way out of their houses or in, looking over to them. He moved a little to glance at Steve and was surprised at what he saw. Instead of feeling relieved to have witnesses, the guy was definitely worried and straightened up completely, running a hand over his clothes to brush away any crinkles.

"Pathetic, Rider… Murtagh, isn't it? What a name!" Steve backed up a little, arrogance back in his expression. "Is this all you can do? No wonder your brother is such a wimp. What do you want from me? All I did was have some fun, it's not my fault that the boy fell for me."

Murtagh was icy again, angry at himself to have lost control. "You know what you did last night," he stated simply, "and you should know you can't just walk away from it."

"So? Truth is I had expected your brother to show up today, crawling, begging me to forgive him and take him back. I'm not the villain here."

"He won't come back." Murtagh's blood was beginning to boil again and he fought hard to stay cool. "He's not stupid, you know? But you have hurt him. And I think it's time for an apology."

"Why isn't he here, then? Let him come and cry some and I settle this. Or isn't he able to do this on his own?"

Thorn growled and Steve's eyes flickered over to him. "I won't interrupt your fighting another time, dickhead. No, next time I'll join in. Want to know on what side?"

Steve only grimaced at him. Murtagh was his height and of similar built, the copper-haired, however, was taller and obviously stronger. He could not help but throw a look over his shoulder, estimating the distance to the front door.

"You'll meet him," Murtagh began to order, "and you'll say you're sorry, and you'll stay the hell away from him afterwards. How does that sound?"

"Great. And as this is all so much of your concern, you'll be standing right next to him, holding his hand. I don't think so." Steve had crossed his arms over his chest.

"I do not trust you to be alone with him for one second!"

Steve shrugged, careless. "He never minded much being alone with me before," he taunted.

Murtagh was back at his throat, but this time only with one hand, as the other had punched Steve full force in the stomach. Steve doubled over, but straightened back up again quickly, while Thorn grabbed Murtagh from behind and pulled him a few steps away.

"I'm…not seeing… him," Steve grumbled through clenched teeth. "At least not… as long as you are there."

Murtagh shook himself free from Thorn's grasp. "You're not? Too bad, because-" he stopped in mid-sentence. He could feel Thorn's eyes on him and all of a sudden his friend's thoughts were as clear to him as if he had said them aloud. Murtagh briefly rubbed his head with one hand. He did not believe in the supernatural, but whatever had just given him the idea, he now knew what to do. "Okay," he said slowly, "okay, I understand. But you're meeting him at a public place. Somewhere where other people are around."

Steve considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Where?"

Again, Thorn's voice in his head. "The gym," Murtagh instructed, "the college gym. In the locker rooms, at four p.m."

"College gym. At four. Deal." Steve's expression was blank. "And if I see you, Murtagh Rider, anywhere near, I'll leave and- Fuck!" His face turned white and he stared at something behind Murtagh and Thorn.

The two whirled around and froze. They had heard cars pass them by on the street the whole time, but now one had stopped. A police car. And the policeman driving it got out and began walking towards them. It was a thin, elderly man, who was obviously counting down the days until his retirement.

"Shit!" Thorn looked at Murtagh and Steve, the former composed, the latter shocked. He tried to calm his fidgety hands.

The policeman came to a halt before the little group. He was not dressed for the cold.

Murtagh decided to take matters into his hand. "Officer. Can I help you?" His throat felt dry, but he thought he sounded relaxed enough.

"Mr. Miller? Steve Miller?" the policeman asked, his voice unfriendly.

"No," Murtagh shook his head and his eyes wandered to Steve.

"Mr. Miller." Now the policeman knew who to address and he came closer. "Mr. Miller, your neighbours called. They said there was a fight going on here."

Steve did not react. Sweat was breaking out on his face despite the cold. His left eyelid twitched nervously. But still he did not say a word.

"Sir," Murtagh stepped in once again. "We were only having a little argument, nothing to worry about. The neighbours must have… misunderstood something."

"And you are?"

"Murtagh… sir." He kept quiet about his last name, thinking that so far it was none of the police's business.

The man glared at him. "Murtagh. No last name. How I just love that."

"Sir," now it was Steve who interrupted, finally overcoming his state of shock. "He is right. Nothing happened. I don't know what the neighbours have seen, but we were only disagreeing over a personal matter."

"Do you live here?" the policeman asked.

"My father does."

"Is he home?"

"No," Steve lied convincingly.

"Well," the policeman rubbed his arms with his hands, frowning at the sky that had chosen to send more snow down to earth. "We're going to the station, to sort things out."

"What?" Thorn stepped forward, disbelief on his face. "We didn't do anything. What are we supposed to do at the police station?"

"You are coming. With me. Now!" The policeman barked, then glowered at all of them in turn, daring them to contest him. "And if you're not, I can make you."

Murtagh looked at Thorn, who licked his lips nervously and shrugged. Neither had any idea if they could actually be forced to come along. "Why?" he asked carefully, not wanting to provoke any more anger.

"That boy," the policeman pointed his hand at Steve, who raised both eyebrows, "means trouble. And you apparently too."

"Alright." Murtagh went for appeasement, ignoring the information about Steve for a moment. "We will come along. Follow you. And you can look at my license plate to make sure we won't run…" He was not insane enough to further irritate an officer, especially not one who seemed to blame them for the cold.

"What car?"

"The Mustang." Murtagh pointed at it.

The policeman scrutinized him for a moment and nodded. Murtagh and Thorn set into motion, with Steve following on their heels. "No!" The officer called and all halted. "Mr. Miller, you're coming with me."

"You're not coming with us, fool," Thorn hissed.

Steve hesitated only a moment before following the policeman to his car.

Murtagh and Thorn sped up, jumped into the car and Murtagh pulled out to follow the officer. "I can't freakin' believe this," he growled. "The dickhead makes us look like criminals."

"This is so ridiculous," Thorn agreed. "The cop was just cold, I think. God! If someone is not fit for the job anymore, they should think twice before sending him out on the street."

"True." Murtagh's right hand was rubbing the gearshift nervously. "Fuck! Thorn! What are we going to do?"

A short, hysterical laugh escaped his friend. "Not call our parents, so much is for sure."

"Parents…" The fingers of Murtagh's left were drumming on the wheel. "Parents! Boy, I love you!"

"Why?" Thorn asked sceptically.

"Arya! Her mother is a lawyer, right? Let's call her."

Thorn clicked his tongue. "Good. Good idea, Taggy. No! Not you!" He snatched away the phone Murtagh had just fetched from a pocket of his jacket. "Great, idiot, to drive with a cell in your hand while following a police car."

"Oh," Murtagh chuckled quietly, "okay, right."

Thorn dialled their friend's number. "Arya? Hi, it's Thorn. Listen…"


	6. Cups and stains of coffee

**A/N: **I am truly sorry that this took me so long. Life has kind of caught up with me and I have exams coming up that I do have to pay attention to. So future updates might only be weekly, something I regret very much, but cannot change.

And as I'm hurrying to update right now, I have not yet thanked **nightshroud14** and **DAMNED-LIKE-BEAUTY** for their reviews, which I am now officially doing: Thank you very much!

By the way, I had originally planned this chapter differently, mainly with a different tone. But after reading **lightning8star**'s review for chapter 4, my perspective changed a little. Thanks for the bunny! :)

* * *

**Cups and stains of coffee**

* * *

"Can't you hurry?" Eragon fidgeted on the passenger seat, playing with the phone in his hand. Murtagh had not called him, a fact which made him both anxious and angry. He felt unimportant, like some unnecessary extension of his brother's life.

Saphira glanced over at him and then focused on the street again. She was driving at the speed limit of forty-five miles an hour and already her car was complaining somewhat. "Getting a ticket on my way to the police station… I don't think so."

"But so much could be happening," Eragon protested weakly. "Maybe they did something bad, and the cops split them up, and now he's somewhere alone, interrogated by some mean guy, and no one except his family is allowed to see him." He swallowed hard, worry prevailing. "I _have_ to be there."

Saphira shook her head and smiled lightly. "You will be, it can't be far now. And what do you think your brother is capable of doing? You just described a scene of a TV-show with a convict that deals with drugs or is a pimp or something along the line. Not Murtagh."

"I think," Eragon said, really thinking about it, "that what I told him about last night upset him. And he has this thing about honour… perhaps he was furious enough to do something foolish in my defense, in our family name's defense."

"No," Saphira murmured and then her voice gained strength. "No, I don't think so. He's not known for his temper, right? But with this defense thing… don't you – deep down – want him to do it? 'Cause you probably couldn't, right?"

"True," Eragon conceded. "And the thought really is a nice one." He smiled softly. "I remember that once when we were little, there was a boy who passed by our house and stumbled and fell into the hedgerow. Murtagh was furious and chased him away, screaming 'Don't damage Rider's property!' Mind you, he could not have been older than seven." He made a sound somewhere in between a snort and a laugh.

Saphira grinned and thought to herself that if the boy had been Eragon, Murtagh would have hurried to help him, all worried that he could have hurt himself. She had seen many childhood pictures of the two, and Murtagh, the playground rowdy, had often held Eragon in a very tender, big brother sort of way. "And today that you're older… do you want him to defend you as a brother or…?"

Eragon ran a hand through his hair, kneading it, and turned his gaze away from the front window, now looking out at the side, watching the houses pass by. He sighed. "I don't know, Saph, I really don't. It's all a bit too much at the moment. But," and now his voice dropped until it was only a whisper, "the thought of spending another night in one bed with him today, and not be drunk and actually notice some things…" He shook his head and rubbed a hand across his face.

"You shouldn't think like that, Eragon." Saphira talked quietly as well. "I would like nothing better than seeing you happy, and I mean happy as in pursuing your heart's deepest wish. But with the way life is… I don't want this to be your undoing." Her chest tightened. If only there was a way out of it. Above all she was scared that Murtagh could find out one day, and not be able to handle it. A cold, or hardly any, or no contact at all to his brother could harm Eragon severely and permanently. Saphira forced a smile back on her lips. These thoughts she did not want to share with her friend.

"Oh!" Eragon was attentive all of a sudden. "There it is, I think." He pointed to some building on their far left and Saphira began looking for a parking space. A moment later they were walking quickly towards the police station, arms slung around their bodies in the freezing wind on the street.

"I can't believe I'm about to go see my brother in a police building," Eragon muttered under his breath, hands clenching into fists.

"Calm down," Saphira admonished, afraid of what his tension could lead to. "It won't help him if the cops get the impression that his brother is some sort of lunatic rioter. Look, there!" They had come through the main entrance and she pointed to their left, where some sort of waiting room could be seen behind large glass windows. Thorn stood with his arms crossed in front of a coffee dispenser and Murtagh sat close by on a chair, talking animatedly with Arya who had their back to them. There was no one else there.

Suddenly Murtagh turned his head, saw them, and stopped saying whatever he had been saying. Instead he stared at the newcomers, focused on his brother. Arya, and a moment later Thorn, too, swiftly turned in their direction as well.

Eragon headed for the door and watched his brother get up on the other side of the window. Once he was inside of the room, Murtagh was already there and quietly embraced him. Both heard their friends greet each other and Thorn seemed to joke about something, but all the two noticed was the person in their arms. Eragon had fisted a hand into Murtagh's hair, while the latter was stroking his head over and over. Once it was obvious, though, that all eyes were on them they broke apart.

"Hey," Eragon said, retreating a step. He looked at Arya and Thorn for a moment, then his gaze was back on Murtagh. "You… didn't call."

The older one looked at him for a long time while no one in the room spoke. He finally shook his head. "No, I didn't. I had a reason not to, Eragon," he added hastily. "But... now you're here."

"Yeah, because Arya told me you were here…" Eragon's voice was even, yet the pleasant feeling he had experienced in Murtagh's arms was leaving.

Arya looked over at the youth and smiled apologetically. "I think I wasn't exactly supposed to tell you." She wanted to approach him but a quick look of Saphira stopped her.

"Uhm…," Thorn grabbed his little plastic cup of coffee and motioned to the girls to follow him. After watching the two Riders sceptically for a moment, Arya and Saphira left the room after him. Neither Eragon nor Murtagh had moved at all during this little scene and were still assessing the person they were respectively looking at.

"So?" Eragon asked not too nicely once they were alone, cocking his head. "Go ahead. I'm waiting."

Murtagh, who had looked somewhat uncomfortable before, was smirking. "Thanks for your concern, brother. Yes, I'm fine. No, nothing bad is waiting for us."

"Leave it!" So Murtagh did not feel the need to explain? Eragon decided he would make him feel it. "Where's Steve?"

The older one snorted and broke eye contact. He rummaged around in the back pocket of his jeans and got out some coins, helping himself to a coffee as well. He felt his brother's stare, felt there was tension building up in the air, but did not care. It was just Eragon. "Steve," he said evenly, still waiting for his coffee, "is here _some_where."

"Really?" Eragon asked sarcastically. "You seem to be well informed. So why isn't he in this room like you two were?" He was annoyed and his usually light blue eyes darkened a shade. He was being treated like a bystander; and Murtagh's smugness was beginning to seriously annoy him.

Murtagh leaned casually against the coffee dispenser, the hot beverage in his hand. "Because the cops know him and they wanted a word or two." He tried the coffee and decided it was not even that bad. But it did not lighten his mood. Just why had his brother called Arya of all people and at the exact time when she was not choosing her words carefully?

"That's all?" Eragon flexed his muscles. He was not five years old anymore.

"Yep," Murtagh answered carelessly. But he was slowly beginning to be worried by the thought how Eragon would take the news of the appointment he would have later that day. Suddenly he heard some weird sound close to a growl and next thing he noticed was that he was pinned to the wall, his very angry brother very close to his face. He had spilled most of his coffee on both of them, and hissed, because there was also some hot liquid on his hand, hurting him.

"Enough!" Eragon almost yelled. "You tell me right now. No more playing around. _What_ happened? And what's going on right now?" He slammed his right hand into the wall next to his brother's head.

Murtagh flinched while suckling at his hand, perplexed. Who was that person? He gestured to the chairs to his right. "Let's sit down."

"We are _not_ sitting down!" Now Eragon was indeed yelling. "Don't do this, Murtagh!" Boy, was he mad. "Not you, of all people! Anybody, but not you!" They were face to face, only about two inches apart. The younger knew he had gotten his point across and he also knew his brother had noticed that last part, which had sounded so different from how he normally talked to Murtagh.

The older one nodded. He had underestimated how upset Eragon was. "Alright. But calm down, will you? I'll tell you. We went to find Steve."

"Which I never asked you to do," Eragon stated coolly.

"Which you never asked me to do," Murtagh repeated. "But you can't expect me to… to find you, in the middle of the night, drunk, heart-broken and cold, throwing little stones at my window, and _not _confront the reason for all this." Something caught his eye and he looked past Eragon. He saw their friends watching them through the window, Thorn quite close to Saphira, and next to them two cops, watching them as well, meanwhile all of them talking and looking amused. "Turn around."

"What?" The younger snapped.

"Turn around!"

Eragon did as he was told and froze. "Great. Now _I_ look like the bad boy." Yet he smiled and waved at their audience, all five waving back. For a moment he felt like he was inside of a TV and that they were acting like some actors in a soap opera. Time to change that. "Let's sit down."

More relaxed than before they sat down, Murtagh offering his brother some of the rest of his coffee as peace-offering, which was accepted.

"I did not see it coming that you would seek him out, but I guess I should have," Eragon said to the cup in his hand. "But still you have not told me one thing." He looked up, not too friendly. "Seriously, start recounting now or… or I call mom and tell her where I found you." He grinned deviously, though in his eyes it was a true smile.

"You wouldn't!" The thought had Murtagh truly shocked. This was one of the lines Selena had forbidden him to ever cross in his life.

"Of course I would!"

Murtagh licked his lips and chose to go for the truth. He had an inkling that his brother would actually do it. "I called Saphira this morning – you gave me the number, by the way –" this earned him a grimace, "and she told me Steve's last name, then Thorn looked up all Millers in question in Daret and once Saphira was there we left. Steve was in the second house on the list."

"Who was in the first?" Never had there been a time when Eragon had not enjoyed listening to his older brother telling him a story. It did not matter that it was now a telegram-style account of real events.

Murtagh chuckled. "Funny that you ask. An old, unfriendly fellow, who was apparently close to pointing a gun at us."

"Sounds like you are good at making people angry at you today."

"Haha. Want to know what happened or not?" With only a glare for an answer Murtagh continued. "Steve opened the door and we talked to him. He… didn't exactly say he was sorry, we got a little heated, the neighbours did not like it, now we are here."

"And as that's not all, I would like to here the long version, too," Eragon said patiently, as if talking to a child. His wish was fulfilled. With rapt attention he followed every word Murtagh recalled from the encounter, not sure whether he liked the things his brother had said and done or not.

Murtagh, although his hand in Steve's stomach had lessened his anger, was still irritated enough by the previous night's events not to leave out anything. He had a feeling that once Eragon had processed all of it he would not be mad at him – at least that was the way he hoped him to react. But now it became delicate. "-and lastly, before the nasty old cop came, I asked him if he was willing to meet you. To apologize."

"What?" Eragon shot up. He noticed that a lot of heads turned his way but he did not care. How dare Murtagh simply decide something like that? "You did not!"

Murtagh stood up as well, but calmly and composed. "I know I should have asked you," he soothed him, "and I'm sorry I didn't, but there was simply no time. He _has_ to apologize, you must understand that."

Eragon shook his head. "No, Murtagh. You have seen me listening to all you told me, calmly. It was…okay, I guess. I'm not even mad at you anymore, but this? I cannot talk to him. And I have a feeling that he won't be the guy I knew for so long, that he will be mean, and make me look the foolish one." He looked at his hands. "And then I _know_ that I will cry, because stupid me always does that…" He left the sentence unfinished, waving his hand in the air, blinking away the tears that already threatened his composure. He hated himself for always being so easily upset.

"Hey, that's not true." Murtagh took a hand of his brother and pulled him down with him. He did not let go when they were seated again. "You have every right to be emotional in this situation, and again, I am truly sorry. But you haven't heard all of it. Listen." He told him of the details of the meeting. "And," he finished, "it is not only a public space, but at four it will also be Thorn's football team assembling for some winter workout. Arya has said she'll also be around …" He smiled triumphantly at his brother.

Eragon stared at him in disbelief. They had really come up with a decent plan! He still did not want to talk to Steve, but with so many people… Maybe it would make his ex feel at least a little bit as humiliated as he had felt yesterday. "That is… not bad. Oh my God! I don't know why I feel that way, but the idea is…wow! He won't like it once he sees…" He laughed and squeezed the hand holding his. "Murtagh! You're not even that dim."

"Thanks!" Murtagh bowed and pretended to take off an invisible hat to Eragon. "I just hope they won't keep him here."

"Right." Eragon was serious again. "What's going on there? And what do they want with you and Thorn"

"Nothing. Turns out it was truly no more than a grumpy old man. They have told us in a roundabout way that the only crime we committed was choosing the wrong shift. We did not even need Arya's mom, although she agreed right away to help us. Steve however… let's ask the others. Looks like they were making friends out there."

"Yeah." Eragon waved at their friends that were now standing outside by themselves.

Arya entered first, looking at their hands, grinning impishly. "United again?"

The brothers let go with an embarrassed little cough. Eragon, out of interest but also intending to distract, turned towards Saphira who came in light-footedly after Thorn. "Did you learn anything about Steve?"

Thorn stopped, undecided whether to join Murtagh's side or stay close to Saphira. He stayed. And answered instead of her. "Seems like he's been misbehaving before. They know him from excessive partying. One of the guys out there told him they're having some police psychologist talk to him, make him see the error of his ways… I'd like to see that, actually. They say he'll be out in an hour, which means in time for- Oops!" He suddenly opened his eyes wide, looking at Murtagh. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"He has told me about the meeting," Eragon said quickly, "and it is okay, in case you weren't sure when agreeing to do this."

"I didn't even think about you maybe not liking it," Thorn admitted with a smile so wide that Eragon could not take the revelation amiss.

Arya sat down next to Murtagh and snorted. "I can't believe how much they told us. They weren't allowed to say half of it."

Murtagh patted her knee. "It's a truly evil thing and on the day of judgement it will tip the scales and we'll all go to hell, but right now… I'm happy they did."

Arya pushed his hand away in playful annoyance before laughing out aloud. "Life is never boring with the Riders. What's next on the agenda?"

Murtagh shrugged. "I don't know. What time is it?"

"One o'clock. And we've thought about that already," Saphira answered him and made a little hand sign including her and Thorn. "He needs his stuff for practice and Arya still hasn't heard half of everything-"

"- which is definitely not enough." the young woman added.

"Yeah," Saphira smiled at her. "So… we thought that you three," she pointed at those sitting, "go have some lunch somewhere and I will give Thorn a ride home and then return to Carvahall, my shift is starting at five." She sighed deeply.

Eragon could not help but smile broadly. "And we should really allow you two to be in a car together, with no one else there?"

She glowered at him while Thorn was deliberately busy closing his jacket. Murtagh and Arya only grinned. "Until a few minutes ago I was worried about you, Eragon Rider, but now…" Saphira sounded more infuriated than she was and thus hurried forward to her friend, embracing him, lessening the effect of her words. "I'm sorry," she whispered into his ear, "I did not mean it. Will you be fine?"

Eragon kissed her on the cheek. "I will be," he whispered back. "You go and… get Thorn into your car. And we'll to talk tomorrow!"

"For hours! I love you!"

"I love you too, Saph!"

She waved at Murtagh and Arya and left, while Thorn raised his hand and hesitated for a moment. "See you later, tiny!" He grinned at Eragon and lowered his voice to sound twenty years older. "And I'll be a gentleman, don't you worry." He turned around swiftly and hastened out.

The ones left behind grinned and got up as well.

"Where are we going?" Murtagh asked, looking from brother to friend.

"Toni's?" Arya suggested, pulling on her thick green coat and fawn scarf.

"Sounds Italian," Eragon said in a way that was an obvious yes. "Wait! I'm going to see Steve afterwards, right? Do I even look alright?"

"You do!" Arya answered, before pulling at his hoodie and jacket. "And now the coffee stain is also gone."

Eragon turned his gaze towards his brother, wanting more confirmation.

"You look gorgeous," Murtagh assured him in earnest, then shut his mouth forcefully and led the way out of the room. He could feel a light blush rising and would not have any of the two see it.

About one and a half hours later he pulled his car over to the side in a street close to the gym. In his rear-view mirror he saw Arya turn right into the official parking space. He looked at his brother, who tried unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. "We talked about this for the past hour, you'll be fine."

The younger one only nodded.

"Arya will be close by, Thorn will actually be there and his team, too, probably already filled in on the basics. You'll be fine."

Eragon turned to his brother and offered him a weak smile. "Yeah, it can't be half as bad as I'm imagining." He grimaced, hearing as well as Murtagh that he was only trying to convince himself. "And you will be here later?" he asked anxiously. He needed to deal with this as quickly as possible.

"I will be here," Murtagh confirmed, swallowing all negative feelings he had for not being able to accompany his brother. He reached over and tousled through the soft hair he had already admired the previous night. "And then we'll have ourselves a real good brother's night, with DVD's, junk food, and lots of talking. How does that sound?" He hoped his act was more convincing than Eragon's. He was not in the least as unperturbed as he pretended to be.

"It sounds great." Eragon played along, rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans. He did not want to leave the car and go out there, he did not want to leave his brother. But he knew the upcoming was inevitable, and some small part of him was even looking forward to it. "Wish me luck!" He brought his head close to Murtagh, involuntarily interacting with him as he usually did with their mother when he was nervous.

Murtagh took the cue without thinking. He kissed his brother's forehead, lingering only a moment too long. "Go! You should be there before he is."

"Okay." Eragon opened his eyes that he had closed unconsciously and grabbed the door handle. In one fluid movement he opened it, left the car, and slammed the door shut again. Then he began walking towards the building, not once looking back.


	7. Getting it over with

**A/N: **Eragon can be such a headache… worried, angry, afraid, embarrassed, mad etc. etc. He sometimes changes his mood faster than I can say…uhm…pseudopseudohypoparathyroidism. :)

This chapter was a big problem. I think it is… _funnier_ than I wanted it to be, not stupidly funny, but still very much laid back. The reason is probably that I'm having a very rough time at the moment, basically sitting through lectures one half of the day and studying the other half (exams in general are okay with me, but not those that will have an enormous impact on my future life), and apparently my unconscious mind is screaming for relief. To me, relief came in the form of Thorn, and I'm sorry he's so OOC (I mean, apart from being human). Then again, how much do we know of Thorn? As far as I can tell, there's a general agreement on his character throughout the fandom, but no one _really_ knows. So maybe – cough, cough – he's not _that_ OOC… okay, crap. I'm the author, this is my story, basta. :)

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**Getting it over with  
**

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Step by step Eragon neared the gym, watching people who wanted to escape the cold rush to and from the building. With the snow still falling, the people and cars and the occasional dog had not yet managed to spoil the pure white and the world looked peaceful. For once he did not mind the season, although he was more a summer type of person. The snow calmed him externally.

On the inside, he consisted purely of jelly.

They had talked about this. Talked about it in every detail while munching pasta and garlic bread. Still talking about it once they had realised they were having bad breath, which had caused Arya to shrug, asking with a smirk if they – meaning the brothers – were planning on kissing someone that day. Murtagh had chosen the moment to call for the waiter, a well-timed action which – among other things – had made Eragon forgive his brother for setting the meeting up. At least partly.

He was halfway to the door when another thought hit him and his strides slowed down. All they had said about Thorn's team mates was that they would be there and stare the guy down. But suddenly the prospect of the entire team present scared Eragon. He was gay. And they would all be aware of that, because naturally they would have been filled in. He licked his lips. He trusted his brother's friend and knew he did not mean him any harm, but those guys were jocks, after all. Jocks, as in young men whose face to the world was always, _always_ straight. Thorn had only been here for a little more than one semester. How familiar was he with their personalities?

Eragon swallowed hard and walked the last few yards. He had not chosen to be here in the first place, but he had chosen to see this through. It was time he took some action in the whole affair. Time to be strong. He was a Rider, too.

He entered the gym and left winter and some of his uneasiness outside.

First thing he noticed after acclimating to the warm, slightly stuffy atmosphere was a big reception desk ahead of him. At its left side stood a large, dark-green ficus, which was swaying a little and then… waving? Eragon blinked, but it was still waving. Or rather, there was someone partly hidden behind the plant that was waving at him. Arya. A smile crept on his lips. With her outfit it was indeed not the worst hiding place. He swiftly walked over, hands in his pockets.

"Long time no see!" she laughed, hugging him not for the first time that day.

"Yeah, true. Am I supposed to hide here with you?"

"No, of course not. It's just…" Arya produced a pout. "They won't let me into the locker room with them."

Eragon cocked an eyebrow at her, a skill he had acquired only a few years ago and thus was incredibly proud of showing. "You mean the _man's_ locker room?"

She nodded, regret in her eyes. "I would have loved to… but that's not why we're here. I am to inform Thorn about the arrivals of both the protagonist – you – and the antagonist – Steve – and call him. Which I just did."

Eragon looked up and scanned the room. No one present was even close to the copper-head's built. "Where am I to go now?"

"Just over there." Arya pointed to a large glass door that was frequented by people in workout clothes and sport bags. "Thorn will pick you up."

"Okay, thanks." He breathed a kiss on her cheek, nervousness all of a sudden returning full force. He hurried in the indicated direction and true enough, once he passed the door he looked into the wildly grinning face of Thorn. The older boy thumped him on the back, probably meant as encouragement, but instead it pressed the air out of Eragon's lungs. He wheezed disapprovingly.

"Ready to go, Rider?" Thorn was more than a little excited. The whole apology-in-front-of-an-audience thing usually happened only on TV and also only in shows he considered girlish, but he anticipated the real life action. And so far he was more than pleased with the way the day had gone.

Eragon sighed, keeping to himself that he did not have the ultimate master plan. "Yes," he lied. "Are you?"

"Hell yeah," Thorn boomed, proving that mankind shared many genes with gorillas by drumming his hands on his chest. "But I'm not going in yet. I mean, Stevie boy has not mentioned _me_, but if he _sees_ me… I'll wait, and once he's in there," he pointed somewhere behind Eragon's shoulder, "with you," he poked him, "I'll join the orgy and close the door."

Eragon rolled his eyes, but felt oddly relieved. Thorn was his usual self – bear-like, confident, provocative – which took some weight off his shoulders. The older male would take care of him, and it was the best replacement he could imagine for his brother. Different, but still good. Thorn always saw some light at the end of a tunnel, though he often did so without discretion. Eragon was just glad that Murtagh bore the brunt of Thorn's jokes about gays. There was no way he could stand those over a prolonged period of time.

"'There'," Eragon began, looking where the other had pointed, "is where?"

"Separated changing room for the team."

Eragon's stomach squirmed, but he put on a poker face. "Are they there already? How will Steve find me?"

Thorn grinned. "Curious you are, young Padawan. A pack of them is there, nice guys, don't you be nervous. You'll go say hi, then come back out and wait in front of the door. Steve will spot you, you go inside, he follows, I follow, you guys bitch, we cheer, all good." He kept a very straight face. "Oh, and the orgy."

Eragon glowered at him. "You are totally off track here and an ass on top of that. I might just tell Murtagh." His cheeks were warming and he hated Thorn for making him both embarrassed and a little angry.

"Then what?" Thorn leaned forward, innocent as an angel. "He's going to throw his mascara at me?"

Eragon gaped at him before laughing involuntarily and realizing what this was all about: distraction. "You just made sure that I _will_ tell him. You're dead."

"Can't wait." Thorn laughed loudly, ignoring the heads turning his way. "Now get going, tiny. And don't worry. There's nothing he can do to you."

Yeah, except somehow humiliating me even more, Eragon thought. He nodded to Thorn and turned around. Time to check the battle ground.

He went through an open door and around a corner and ran straight into a huge young man. Eragon yelped out of surprise and raised both hand in apology, but the other only grunted.

"Looking for someone, pipsqueak?" the guy asked, not unfriendly.

Eragon frowned as no one had ever called him that before. Then again, he had _never_ been so close to a person so big. Even bigger than Thorn. "Eastern Spine Lizards?"

"The home of the brave!" The guy laughed and made room to let him pass. "Chicos! It's Thorn's baby!"

With his head flushed crimson, Eragon now faced about fifteen young men in various states of undress, some of them smiling, others indifferent. He wished fervently that the ground would swallow him. "Hi!" He got some indefinable noises as an answer.

"Don't worry," the guy he had run into murmured. "We won't leave until this is settled."

That being exactly _what_ he was worrying about, Eragon merely grimaced in response.

Suddenly there was a shrill whistle and all turned back to their business. Eragon understood without asking what it meant. Forgotten was his embarrassment; he felt his heart speed up and his hands were clammy in an instant. His mind was blank, and try as hard as he might, he could not recall one thing Murtagh and Arya had advised him to say. Slowly he walked back so he could overlook the entrance area.

Then he saw him.

Steve entered the locker room area and spotted Eragon to his far right. He could almost smell the younger one's fear and smirked. A public place would not change one basic fact about the boy's character: once cornered, he was no more than a deer. He walked towards him with poise.

Eragon blinked twice to convince himself that he was not having a nightmare. He repeated in his head that he would not back down. Steve had humbled him. Steve had pretended for so long that he loved him. Steve did not respect him. Steve was bad. And only in movies that he did not like did the bad boys win.

Steve had almost reached Eragon and congratulated himself once more on his good taste, because the boy was yummy. However, the last bit of interest he had still had in him had evaporated this morning, due to the other Rider. Ever since Murtagh had shown up today, Steve had not liked him. Soon he had downright despised him. And while being alternately lectured and threatened by the cops, he had only thought about the dark-haired man. And he had realized that nothing could probably hurt him more than if he, Steve, could somehow get Eragon back. Or at least, force him to forgive, so he would talk positively of him in the future. Steve's smirk turned into a more or less genuine smile. It was worth a try. "Hey, good to see you, Eragon!" His voice was smooth and he knew he was looking good. Go ahead, boy, he thought. Try to handle me.

The attitude disoriented Eragon. They had never fought during their relationship; he did not know how Steve schemed and attacked. "Hi," he tried tentatively, studying his opponent.

Steve came to a stop and raised a hand to ruffle the blond's hair, but Eragon ducked away. "What's going on? I hardly know why I'm here, and now you shy away?" the older asked naively.

"Don't ever touch me again!"

"C'mon, don't be mad at me. You don't have a reason to."

"I… Of course I have a reason to. Yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

Eragon swallowed, sweating in earnest now. He should have never agreed to come here. What if Steve denied everything? The fraternity guys Steve had talked to last night were definitely no good witnesses. "At the party. The way you talked about me."

Steve cocked his head, both eyebrows raised. "How did I talk about you? Honestly, sweetheart, I think there's a big misunderstanding."

"Don't call me that!"

"But you _are_ my sweetheart. And it really hurts me to see that you think so badly of me."

"Steve! You… You cannot do this. Don't act like nothing has happened."

"Nothing _did_ happen, Eragon. You were drunk and confused and your mind was playing little tricks on you."

"I know what I heard!"

"Tss. You only heard me fool around with some childhood buddies. Language between _men_ can be harsh sometimes. I never meant to hurt you, _boy_!"

"Like you care…" Thorn's hostile voice had Steve spin around and Thorn smirked at him. "Yeah, I'm here, too. See, mollycoddle, with what you've told us this morning, you've already proven that you are not entitled to call him 'sweetheart'."

Steve had regained his composure quickly. He should have considered Thorn earlier and not only exclude Murtagh from the meeting. But as it was, he had to deal with him. Maybe he could use the public place against the bear in front of him. "Hey!" He turned into the direction of the other people present, who were watching him attentively. "Listen, guys, I'm only here to have a little talk with my friend, and now this person here tries to interfere. You, as athletes, are all about fair play, right?" He smiled self-assuredly, sensing some excitement. "So could I perhaps ask you to help me out for a sec? Take care that he won't go into a frenzy?" He had noticed all wearing clothes with the Eastern Spine Lizard emblem. They would love taking on a big boy like Thorn. His smile widened. This could end in real fun.

He turned around again and froze. Thorn had taken off his jacket and was mischievously presenting his jersey. His Lizard jersey. In a flash Steve understood that the room was indeed filled with excitement – only that _he_ was the prey.

For a moment, Eragon loosened up. Steve's thoughts were as clear as if he was voicing them and the picture was priceless. Murtagh would have loved to see it, he was sure of it. Thinking of his brother steadied him. "You did not fool around with buddies. You insulted me. You basically described me like others would describe a piece of meat." He spat the words; finally anger was surfacing and replaced his uneasiness.

"Did I?" Steve's tone became sarcastic, kindliness gone. "Would you mind sharing your memories with me? 'Cause it looks like you hearing is… well, what shall I say? Not so accurate." The young men present would never support a wimp, and he knew Eragon would talk himself into one.

"You said…" Eragon hesitated, casting a look around. How much could his audience stand without being disgusted? How much could he say in hearing distance of so many strangers? "You told those people something about… my…my…" he searched for an adequate word, "…manhood." He waved a hand in the air while hearing low chuckles. Bad choice. "You said it was all yours to play with. That I _am_ and _got _somenice piece of meat. That I ha-have a… a tight hole." He knew his face was burning again and his hands were clenched into fists, the left of which he was beating against his leg. "And that you had wanted to show me off yesterday, that unfortunately you had not been able to… make me wear tighter clothes. _What_ about that do you think did not insult or hurt me?" He bit his lip to let the pain distract him from the upcoming tears. The room was silent.

"Oohhh, are we about to cry?" Steve teased. "Don't be a baby!"

"I'm not a baby."

"You're whining like one."

"I was only stating facts." No, Eragon did not like this. "Sorry that I actually posses emotions, but only because you don't doesn't make me a baby." From the corner of his eyes he saw a guy smile.

"Okay, but only babies cry so easily…"

The anger was back. "And only a dickhead is such a fucking asshole." Low whistles and quiet cheers broke the silence and Thorn laughed quietly. Eragon made a mental note to thank Murtagh later. Cursing was truly great at times.

As the team was not put down by the Eragon's account of events, Steve began feeling a little uncomfortable. This was not going as planned. "I never knew you could swear like that."

"There's a lot you don't know."

"Yeah, like how brave you can be when backed by so many?" Steve felt the skin on his neck prickle and he quickly shot a warning glance at Thorn, who had shifted closer.

Eragon smirked. "The way I see it is that you'll get free applicants for your next… 'relationship'," he made exaggerated speech marks in the air, "once the Lizards let the word go round in Daret of your amazing personality and devotion."

"Har-fucking-har." Steve shook his head. He did not care much; he was living in Carvahall now. But he thought it was time to get away from the gym nonetheless, because Eragon seemed not inclined to forgive him. If the football players started picking on him and someone else overheard or saw and called the police… They had made it unmistakably clear earlier that they did not want to see him ever again, or at least not for a long, long time. "So, Rider. Now that you're established as the innocent victim and I as the mean villain… what do you want me to do?"

Eragon's blood was not rushing in his ears anymore, and his hands hung relaxed at his sides. Ironically it was only _after_ their relationship that he was the one deciding. "An apology. A thorough one. And convince me that you'll leave me alone in the future."

Steve snorted dismissively. "The last one is easy. You were a fun toy to play with, but every toy becomes boring at some point."

Thorn stepped directly behind Steve, causing him to flinch. "You really think this will do any good here?" he enquired softly, yet everyone heard it, and some guys were shaking their heads, answering in Steve's stead.

"Calm down, everybody." Steve said smoothly. "I understand that not everyone can stomach my talking, so I'll go for the harmless variant from now on."

A redhead, fully dressed, got up and came close. "Hmm, and what about you not being able to stomach _our_ 'talking'?" He cracked his knuckles slowly and audibly. "You're welcome to learn the language, though." Shouts of approval underlined his offer.

"An apology," Eragon reminded Steve quietly. "And no denial about the things you said."

"Well, if it makes you feel… better," Steve paused and looked around, "I will do it. Give me air to breathe!" This was directed at Thorn and the redhead, who reluctantly retreated a little. "Alright, _only_ for you, boy!"

Eragon prepared himself to memorize the following. He had not understood before how important this was for him t hear it, but he was pleasantly anticipating it now.

"I, Steve Miller, hereby acknowledge all those cruel crimes that I have committed." It was sarcastic, but no one cared. "I apologize to you, Eragon Rider, for saying what I said and will not… bother… you in the future." He bowed theatrically. "May I go?"

"Sure," Eragon replied, smiling triumphantly. "Bye, Steve." He had been taught good manners, after all.

With a grunt Steve left, holding back his farewell until he had almost left the locker rooms. "Have fun with your freaky brother, Eragon!" he yelled over his shoulder and was gone.

In the meantime, while glowing with pride, Eragon had begun thanking the team. He was relieved by their easy-going nature and good mood, and truly meant it when he wished them all the best for the next season. Thorn accompanied him on his way out.

Once they had left the Lizard's area, Thorn reached for the pocket of his jacket and, to Eragon's astonishment, produced a tape recorder that he turned off.

Eragon stared at the little device. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Certainly. Arya did not want to be left out."

"No way!" Eragon laughed. "It's her mom's, right?"

Thorn nodded. "I must say that I'm proud to present the results to her."

"Yeah, it went really well."

"See, tiny? Good ol' Taggy and I can come up with great ideas at times."

Eragon surrendered with a grin. "Okay, you were right for once. This was… necessary. And good. Apropos good… How did it go with Saphira earlier?" With interest he noticed Thorn turn abruptly serious and a little nervous.

"What do you mean? She only drove me home and then here."

"Ah. And did she drive you… nicely?"

Thorn hesitated for a moment before capitulating to a degree. "Yes, she drove me nicely. You're worse than your brother, you know that?"

Eragon made a clicking sound. "Everybody is when it comes to being openly curious. He always sneaks around your back and learns the dark way." He spoke affectionately, belying his choice of words. "C'mon, tell me more. I'll call her anyway."

"You're a bugging bug." Thorn inhaled deeply and then answered far too soon to hide the fact that he wanted to spread the news. "We talked and… got along… and… exchanged numbers…"

"And…?"

Thorn smiled broadly at Eragon. "And I'll be in Carvahall next weekend at the latest!"

"Thorn! That's great!" Eragon clapped his hands excitedly. "I can't wait to tell Murtagh."

"Yeah, whatever," Thorn mumbled, but he was glowing just as Eragon had earlier. "See you around, boy."

"See ya!" They waved at each other and Eragon headed for the exit. He did indeed have a lot of things to tell, and the person he wanted to inform was still where he had left him. He sped up involuntarily, heart beating faster again. He had the rest of the day, all night and also tomorrow to spend with Murtagh, and to look at him, too. Earlier, in the restaurant, he had marvelled at himself for almost forgetting the unruly black mane, paired with those intense hazel eyes which always looked out on the world so proudly. The elegant Rider stature held upright at all times. From the past Eragon knew the body underneath the clothes lived up to the promise and-

He stopped dead outside of the gym and stomped one foot to the ground. It had happened again, and this time not during some boring math lesson. Perhaps now that he did not project everything onto Steve anymore… No. Stop it, he told himself. Murtagh was his brother. Beloved, but brother. This would be a brother's night. With DVD's and chips and, after last night, definitely no alcohol.

"Good enough," the little voice in his head whispered and Eragon agreed, walking again, even faster than before. He could not help his heart making a leap, though, when he saw the Mustang. He grabbed a handful of snow, formed a ball, hid it behind his back and ran the last way to the car.


	8. A thin line

**A/N: **This is an Era/Mur chapter. After all, it's an Era/Mur story. But they're not making it easy... Then again, they are living in a modern-day western civilization. And are as prone as everyone of us to interpret another person's actions and expressions wrongly. Poor guys!

* * *

**A thin line  
**

* * *

Murtagh was watching a father and his children hang up fat balls and a feeder on some bare brushes in their front yard. They were scrambling through the branches, with faced reddened by the cold, screeching and laughing, occasionally face-washing each other. He wondered briefly why they were not placing everything a few feet further to the right; that way they would be able to watch the birds through the windows of the house later.

He shrugged and instantly forgot the scene again, although it was happening close to his car. It had not been his first attempt at distraction, but all had failed. When he had closed his eyes to shut the world out, his mind had immediately produced movie-like scenes of Eragon and Steve getting intimate. Of course he had snapped his eyes open right then, but the image had stayed for a considerable time. Next idea had been blasting his stereo with aggressive rock music, until he had remembered having done this back at home when he had known Eragon had someone over – someone male and good-looking. Murtagh had always made sure _not_ to overhear anything that could possibly happen in the room next to his.

Then he had changed to classical music and a quieter volume, hoping to soothe his nerves. It had not triggered any unwanted reaction, but also it had not prevented his thoughts on what could be happening inside of the gym. He had been brooding for over half an hour when the family had come outside and into his field of vision. Now that he was not watching them anymore another picture formed. The way those kids had fooled around… the way he and Eragon had fooled around for a short time last night… had Eragon and Steve also been this friendly, playfully close?

His patience was almost non-existent by now, and he stared at the clock in his car, watching the minutes pass by. The music station was playing some aggressive piece by Dvorák, which was definitely not calming him. Five more minutes, he decided. If they had not settled matters inside within five minutes, he would go in. He was true to his word and would usually not go against an agreement made, but Eragon came first.

A frantic knocking on the curb side window startled him out of his dark musings and his head snapped to the side. It was Eragon, finally, appearing out of nowhere, his face flushed and smiling. He ripped open the door and jumped in. Murtagh just stared, his hand moving in slow-motion to turn off the radio.

"Ask!" Eragon ordered excitedly, hiding one hand behind his back.

"How did it go?"

"G-R-E-A-T!" Eragon cheered, not caring that he made a total fool of himself. "Way better than expected. Which is why I want to hug you!"

Murtagh frowned. "Why don't you just do it? Since when do these things have to be announced?"

"You're right!" Eragon leaned forward and embraced his brother. His left quickly pulled at the neck of Murtagh's jacket and sweater and his right dropped the snowball. He pulled back instantaneously and opened the door again, ready to jump out.

For a second Murtagh was stunned, wondering what Eragon had just done to his clothes and why he was about to leave the car again. Then he felt a cold _something_ between his shoulder blades which slowly slid down his back and left a wet trail. "You did not!" he growled. Then the snowball reached the nerves on his lower back and he suddenly jumped in his seat, restricted by the belt he had never unbuckled. He freed himself and frantically tried to reach the intruding object, hindered by his jacket, which he then tore off awkwardly in what little space the car left him. Finally he could reach inside his sweater from below and remove the remaining snow.

Eragon had laughed throughout the whole procedure, but was still perched on the edge of his seat. "That looked like you were a bug that had landed on its back. The people on TV always strip more sexily…" He bit his lip to prevent more giggling spilling out.

Murtagh did not even try to grab his brother inside of the car. He opened his door as well and jumped out, racing to the other side. Eragon, however, had not been idle and began running the second Murtagh was leaving the car. He skittered through the snow and around bushes, hearing footsteps always close behind, not daring to look over his shoulder, afraid to lose time. Yet after a few moments he could not help but glance back nonetheless, and the infuriated Murtagh, trying to catch him, again evoked the scene that had just taken place and Eragon laughed anew.

It left him breathless after a few short moments and he knew he had lost.

Murtagh saw Eragon slow down and dove forward, crushing his brother mercilessly beneath him. The snow both cushioned the fall and silenced Eragon's laughter and Murtagh felt a lot better right away. "This is the official end of the baby brother's rebellion!" he announced and chuckled.

"Can't breathe," Eragon panted and felt the weight on top of him shift immediately. Relieved, he turned around, finding himself face to face with Murtagh, who was still on top of him, though now supporting himself with hands and knees. They were only inches away from each other and suddenly all was quiet except for their laboured breathing.

"I didn't really hurt you, did I?" Murtagh asked in a whisper, lost in the bright blue eyes staring at him.

Eragon only shook his head. He felt Murtagh's breath on his face, felt his thighs touch the outside of his own. He could not form one coherent thought. There was only one notion that ruled his whole being and accelerated his heart beat: if he moved his head only a little, just flex the muscles in his neck a bit, their mouths could meet. His eyes moved away from his brother's and focused on the pale red lips, wanting to change their color by protecting them from the cold. Suddenly aware of what he could ruin in an instant, Eragon concentrated wholly on leaving his head on the ground. Then, out of the blue, his hips jerked upwards, meeting their counterparts.

Murtagh shied away from Eragon as if burned. So close. He had been so close to leaning down and simply kiss those parted lips. Taking into account the agitation he had already felt this day, his body had reacted strongly. And now… had Eragon noticed it? He glanced at his brother quickly, who was staring into the sky, his face showing bewilderment and slight traces of panic. Act, Murtagh told himself. Act as if nothing has happened. "We got the hierarchy?" he asked with a smirk.

"Huh?" Eragon was sweating despite the cold. What had he done? What must Murtagh think of him now? "Yeah, yeah I got it, boss." His cheeky tone was completely lost somewhere between embarrassment and sadness.

"Good." Murtagh got up and brushed the snow off his clothes. "What do you think, shall we get a movie?" He returned to his car, not looking back.

"Okay." All Eragon could think of was that normally Murtagh would have helped him up. As it was, he scrambled to his feet on his own and followed his brother.

Once they were in the car and driving, the silence got laden. "So." Murtagh tried to hide his turmoil. "How about you tell me what exactly happened today?" Did Eragon think he was sick?

Eragon gladly replied and began a detailed account of his confrontation with Steve. Slowly the tension left both of them and Eragon even saw Murtagh smile when he came to the cursing part. "Yeah," he chuckled, "I wanted to thank you, actually. Mom wasn't completely right, it seems. Foul words can be very helpful at times."

Murtagh laughed quietly. Maybe Eragon was able to overlook what had happened. "Welcome to the world of parental failings. By the way, there is no Santa Clause."

Eragon chuckled. "Please, don't belatedly ruin my childhood." They were quiet for another minute before he recounted the rest of the meeting. He finished the moment they entered the parking lot of a video store. "…and he left. Just like that. What are we going to watch?"

Murtagh turned the key and the car came to a stop. He turned to Eragon and nodded his head approvingly. "I'm very happy it went the way it did. I… I wasn't sure beforehand. I'm proud of you!"

Eragon blushed not for the first time that day, but for the first time out of pride. "To be honest, I was pretty pissed at you-"

"You told me so earlier."

"No, I mean I was pissed again." Eragon grinned. "But it's all good now. I didn't realize it, but it was necessary to hear Steve apologize. It felt so right. Funny, though… everything has happened within not even one day, and still…" He turned pensive. "It's already over, to some degree. I feel like someone has turned the page and now I am at the beginning of a new chapter... Which I want to start with a good movie."

"Alright. Let's go. I feel like… either good action or a road movie." Murtagh held open the door for his brother, hearing him snort on the way in.

"No, not quite." Eragon had already spotted the section he was looking for and headed straight towards DVDs whose covers were full of horses, knights, and swords. He raised one eyebrow. "You don't mind?"

"How could I?" Anything, Murtagh thought. And these movies usually had action, too. "How about you choose and I find something to eat? Popcorn?"

"Very well."

Murtagh walked towards the unhealthy part of the store, yet stopped short after a few strides. He turned around and nearly jumped. Eragon was right behind him.

"Forgotten that I'm ten times quicker than you when it comes to choosing? We'll watch the 13th Warrior." Eragon waved the movie in the air.

"Never seen it." Murtagh took some microwave popcorn and the DVD and put both on the counter before getting out his membership card. "Who is in it?"

"Antonio," Eragon practically purred. "Plus twelve other warriors, plus many horses, plus monsters, plus fighting."

"Good." Murtagh grinned. As long as those warriors were not all gay and focused more on each other than the enemy… in that case it could get awkward.

"Murtagh?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I drive home?"

"Sure."

After what was possibly the longest way that anyone could take from the video store to the dormitory, they got home when the day was already fading. The halls of the dorm were full of people and it was loud, which was typical for an early Saturday evening when everyone was getting ready to go out. Murtagh greeted many with a friendly nod, which turned into a frown once not only a few women turned their heads after his brother, but also two guys, of whom he knew that they shared his orientation.

"What's wrong?" Eragon asked, noticing Murtagh's expression, oblivious as usual to the effect he had on people.

"You're being checked out."

"Oh, am I?" He swayed his hips a little and grinned when Murtagh looked even angrier. "Sorry, had to do that."

"Tss." Murtagh increased the pace and breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally in his room. He kicked the door shut behind them and got rid of his shoes. Then he turned on two smaller lamps and switched off the flashy ceiling light. Observing the result, he was quite satisfied with the way everything looked. Saphira and Eragon had actually left the room tidier than it had been before. He had a feeling, though, that it had been more of the girl's work.

Meanwhile, Eragon, after ridding himself of shoes and jacket as well, only noticed the chilly air. "Brr, cold," he complained and went to turn on the heater. Only then did he look around and silently agreed to Saphira's arlier assessment of the place. He thought that the dark, warm colors with the soft lighting actually made it look … romantic. Eragon cursed and clenched his fist. Wrong.

"You alright?" When the younger one nodded, Murtagh continued making room for the popcorn in his microwave, which he often used to store clean dishes in. "We can take the covers till it's warm," he suggested over his shoulder.

"Onto the floor?"

"Sure. My room, my rules."

Eragon went to get the blanket when his eyes fell on Winnie the Pooh. He rushed the last yard to the bed and stuffed him behind the pillow, but too late.

"Is that your Winnie?"

Eragon froze before slowly turning around, shamefaced. "Maybe…" But he decided that he rather justified the stuffed animal's presence than all those slips he had already had today.

Murtagh looked sceptical. "Didn't we put him in the attic when you started Junior High?"

"Err, yeah."

Murtagh laughed. "And Saphira went to the attic today?"

"No." Eragon simply grabbed not only the covers but also Winnie and put him down on the rug so that he could watch the movie with them. "He came down on his own to visit you and spend some time here." He chuckled and then sighed. "No, to be honest, I retrieved him when you moved out. The house was so empty." He arranged himself on the floor, not looking at his brother.

Murtagh's face went soft. Had he been so blind not to notice how much Eragon had missed him? He vowed to make up for it. In the past months he had certainly been a bad older brother. "Well, it's fine with me," he played along. "Bears like watching warrior movies?"

"Sure they do."

The microwave finished with a pling and Murtagh got out a bowl for the popcorn. He put it in between Eragon, who was sitting cross-legged and wrapped in the blanket, and Winnie, who was sitting straight-legged and possibly freezing. "I'll be right there, just want to call Thorn real quick."

Eragon smiled. "Good luck trying."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

However, Thorn's line was busy, and it still was after five minutes when Murtagh tried again. By now, Eragon had effectively decimated a large amount of popcorn and could not stop giggling quietly.

"Alright," Murtagh eventually capitulated, "what do you know that I don't?"

"A lot."

"So you do have a fetish for stuffed animals? I've waited for the confession for years."

Eragon went silent and grimaced at the older one. "Very funny. Haha. Anyhow… don't you remember what happened after the police station?"

"We went to eat."

"And the others…?"

"Oh." Something dawned on Murtagh and he stared at Eragon unbelievingly. "No, don't tell me…"

"Yes, I _am_ telling you. They exchanged numbers and Thorn's actually coming to Carvahall these days to visit."

Murtagh shook his head, before slowly sitting down next to his brother, still processing the news. "Thorn and a _girl_…"

Eragon raised one index finger. "And the nicest one of them all, so he better be careful."

"He will be." Murtagh smiled "Thorn's a softy, though so far I'm about the only person who knows that. God… this makes me happy to hear. Reason number two to celebrate today. Sure you don't want me to get some wine?"

Eragon pretended to throw up and both laughed. Then he made room for Murtagh in the little warm cave he had created and invited the other to join. In the end they were sitting very close, one leg and arm each touching, both uncomfortable for similar reasons.

Yet once they were watching the movie, the proximity between them became unimportant. They began their curious mix of watching attentively while at the same time commenting on all possible aspects – a tradition started in early childhood.

"Why is it that people in movies always leave in the end?" Murtagh yawned and stretched his arms while the TV was showing the credits. "I mean, it looked like the Arab formed a close bond with that cute blond…"

"Home is where the heart is! And in terms of cuteness – though they are all too old for me anyway – Mr. Banderas comes first." But it might just be the dark hair for me, Eragon added silently, glancing at his brother. They had dropped the covers a while ago, but had not changed places, and he was again aware of how close Murtagh was. And how handsome.

"Your choice. But looks are not all, I hope you'll keep that in mind after Steve."

Eragon did not reject the statement, as he knew he had fallen for the wrong guy, and, more importantly, did not feel like quarrelling with Murtagh. "You want to meet the future applicants for the job of boyfriend?" he asked with a smirk.

Murtagh grinned. "Yeah, and they would have to pass my personal approbation test before they would even be allowed to take you out on a date."

"Great!" Eragon pouted. "I'll be single for the rest of my life."

"Okay, okay," Murtagh chuckled, "I might lower the standards if you ask nicely." In truth, he did not fancy imagining Eragon with yet another boyfriend. The very first time he had seen him with another boy - about three years ago and only innocently holding hands - he had realized that his feelings had entered forbidden, sinful terrain. And when his brother had turned from boyish cute to outright gorgeous, his heart had only screamed louder.

"Murtagh," Eragon said seriously. "You are always so critical of other people, seeing so many flaws. The only one you can fully approve of is yourself, isn't that true?"

The older one considered this for a moment. "I _am_ critical, true. And I do like myself," he added ironically, "but… I would, for example, always approve of you."

"But I can't go out with myself."

"Well, in that case you'd have to go out with me…" Murtagh bit his tongue; his attempt at joking had failed miserably. His eyes were fixed on his brother. The idea of laughing about his suggestion or simply saying that it was of course not an option never crossed his mind.

Eragon swallowed hard and the hairs on his arms stood on end. He was rendered speechless. In another context and other circumstances, an implication like that would have made him lean forward and kiss the other person, and he would kiss passionately if his feelings were only half as strong as they were now. He saw the turmoil in Murtagh's eyes and blushed crimson, convinced that his thoughts were showing on his face. He braced himself for the other's disgust that was sure to come.

Murtagh cleared his throat and got up clumsily, limbs stiff from sitting so long. "That was… weird." He faked a little laugh. "I don't know why I said that. We're brothers, right? And fifty percent of the same blood is still far too much for our society…" He drifted off and pushed the items on his desk around absentmindedly. He wondered whether - if he ever told Eragon - they could agree on some way of dealing with each other in the future. Eragon was the most sympathetic person he knew, but even he had his limits. And Murtagh could not imagine a life where his brother was repelled by him. The mere thought forced him to blink away the wetness in his eyes and he was glad that he was looking out of the window. Never saying anything was by far the better choice.

Eragon saw how Murtagh distanced himself physically and felt his chest tighten. Not for the first time in his life, but more urgently than ever before, did he wish that he was _normal_ and did not feel like this for his brother. Or that he had not been born by the same mother, the little voice in his head added. "Yeah, we're brothers," he confirmed shakily. "And I am a very tired brother on top of that. Last night was really short. What do you think…?" He was anything but tired, but wished fervently for the room to go dark so he could hide.

Murtagh was thinking along the same lines and grunted his approval. He moved quickly, grabbed the covers and spread them on the bed, while watching his brother change for the night out of the corner of his eyes. Within less than five deadly silent minutes they were both in bed, backs to each other, lying as far away from each other as possible with only one blanket, this time not sharing the pillow. Murtagh wondered how they had been able to watch the movie, sitting so close, even touching, and still be totally at ease. If only he had never said… He turned on his back; it was impossible to sleep the way things were. "Eragon?"

"Mhm." Eragon had been fighting tears for a while and worried that it would show in his voice. Here he was, close to the person that had been the number one in his life ever since Eragon had consciously acknowledged the presence of other people than himself in the world. The person he loved in more than one way. And he, Eragon, was as miserable as he could possibly be.

"I…" Murtagh hesitated. "Something is really… odd… right now." His voice had dropped to a low whisper. "We're alright, are we? You and I, Riders forever… right?" He held his breath.

Eragon was quiet for some time. Was Murtagh building a bridge for him? But his brother had no idea of the extent of the damage that Eragon was so close to causing. Yet he had to tread this bridge, else he would fall into the abyss. "Yes, we're alright." He felt a terrible knot in his stomach, growing rapidly. "You and I, Riders forever." His voice told another story, and he knew it was audible. "Then… till tomorrow."

"Good night." Murtagh turned on the other side, facing his brother's back. Eragon was so close - and yet unreachable. If they only lived in a world where he could simply extend his arm and touch the other and it would be alright… He was dreading the coming day.


	9. Out of the dark

**A/N:** Another headache chapter... why?

Pent-up emotions, misunderstandings, and characters that have actually overruled the author and determined that they wanted to talk more about the incest matter - I did not want to go in this direction at all. Somehow it has already started last chapter and now they carried it forward. Well, I had to comply as my original version did not want to be written anymore. What it basically means is that the story will be one chapter longer, that this chapter differs from the others a little, and that I'm kind of exploring the topic of love between siblings, which is very weird for me. But, being cornered as I was by both Eragon and Murtagh, I had to find a way out of it, so I am approaching it quite liberally. As for my own opinion: Love, as long as it hurts no one (!), cannot really be wrong. And only because I belong to the majority of those loving the other gender does not mean that I do not accept other kinds of love. Just as long as they comply with the before given rule. Gosh, my a/n is turning into a novel…

* * *

**Out of the dark  
**

* * *

Eragon woke while it was still dark outside. He had no idea what time it was, but he was unable to go back to sleep. He had not rested much that night; most of the time he had quietly been wailing in self-pity, about the world in general, about the fact who his family consisted of, and about himself. Despite all his intentions, he had allowed hope to rise yesterday, though he did not know what exactly he had been hoping for. Most definitely he had been awaiting the night with excitement and anticipation… He was a fool. It was not the first time that he called himself one, but never had it hurt as much. Somehow the whole Steve trouble seemed light-years ago, and looking back, the tragedy he had felt was only rubbish compared to now.

Eragon felt the presence of his brother, heard his soft breathing, and faintly smelled his scent. What if they just left? Ran away to some other country and pretended not to be brothers? They had different fathers, after all. What about the Caribbean?

Idiot! Eragon sat up and rubbed his temples. The idea was not only one out of some horrible B-movie, above all, it had stolen itself into his mind as if Murtagh had declared his undying love for him last night. Which he had not. Quite the opposite, actually. He had worded it strangely, but physically he had been distant, demonstrating Eragon that he was gross, someone not to be associated with. And still, his brother had eventually overcome that obstacle, giving him one more chance. He had said that they were both Riders, forever, and thereby put his love for him above his abnormality.

Eragon glanced at the person next to him. Murtagh was so unconditionally loyal that it made his heart clench. He did not believe that he would ever meet someone like him, someone he indeed _was_ allowed to love, which was what Saphira was talking about constantly. She wanted him to be happy, he knew that, but she would not understand that only Murtagh was the key to unlock his happiness. Hell, this was in fact the first time that he confessed it to himself so frankly; she could not possibly know.

Making up his mind, Eragon reached over and shook his brother's shoulder lightly. "Murtagh? Murtagh!" he whispered. After a few more encouragements, his brother stirred and eventually woke up.

Murtagh stretched and yawned, quite oblivious of the world around him. Then suddenly the memories came back and he went rigid. Being one of those that only prayed when he needed help, and never out of gratitude, he now pleaded with God. Pleaded that he had not just had a dream that had involved calling his brother's name or anything the like. "Hey."

"I'm sorry to wake you," Eragon murmured, "but I could not sleep any longer. I have to talk to you." He could at last be brave and do this right, so that he had a chance of proving himself a worthy Rider. Worthy in terms of conduct, that was, not regarding how utterly queer he was.

Murtagh squared his shoulders. He was not yet awake enough to interpret his brother's posture or tone and thus he was immensely afraid of the inevitable attack. Why, oh why, had he proposed himself as boyfriend for Eragon last night? It was the most pervert thing he could have done. "I…I'd… you go first. But I have to say some things, too." He reached for a bottle of water standing at the foot of his bed and drank in deep, thirsty gulps. He already felt like he was stranded in a desert, though Eragon had not even revealed the direction yet in which this was going.

Eragon inhaled deeply, glad that no more than silhouettes were visible in the dark. "It didn't go well yesterday, did it? I had been looking forward to our evening, and then… I don't want it to be like this!"

"Same here." Murtagh agreed readily. "You and I - and mom, for that matter - we've been through so much already. This should not be allowed to change anything about it. I love my family more than anything, you know that." It was not even a lie.

"What is 'this', Murtagh?" Eragon asked quietly. He was afraid of the answer, but Murtagh was the one person that he could not bear to be in doubt about. True, they had not had much contact in the past months, yet their solidarity and love had never been in question. He had always known he could turn to his brother if he had a problem – which was what he had done this weekend.

"This?" Murtagh went cold. Eragon was bolder than expected, at the same time one of the few people that he would not lie to. What had happened to them? How had they ended up here? "'This' is… There is something going on between us that I cannot place. Something which is not… accepted."

Eragon pricked up his ears. "Between _us_?" Had Murtagh just included himself?

Murtagh cursed. His brother was sympathetic enough, and all _he_ did was implying that Eragon had also done something wrong. It was time to take the full responsibility for what he had said. "No, I didn't mean it like that. _I_ have said something last night, which included you, so I said _us_. But in truth it was me that-"

"Stop!" Eragon kicked with one leg and hit Murtagh's thigh, effectively interrupting the other.

"Ouch! What was that for?" More perplexed than irritated, Murtagh quickly switched on a light and glowered at Eragon, who glowered back likewise. "What the hell?"

"Don't pamper me anymore, I've so had enough of it!"

"How am I pampering you?"

"You…" Eragon clenched his fists. "You always take the blame! You never include me. It's as if I'm not a whole person in my own rights. You treat me like a baby."

Murtagh raised both eyebrows. He had expected that they would talk about him having come out as a freak yesterday, but this? "Geez, Eragon, where is this coming from? I'm not pampering you. I told you, I am sorry that I set up the meeting with Steve without asking you, but yesterday you said it's okay." He pulled at his hair with both hands for a second. "Are you _still_ mad? Or what is it about now?"

"You don't know?" Eragon hesitated. It dawned on him that their thoughts could be in two entirely different worlds at the moment. "I… _I_ messed up yesterday. It's hard enough as it is, but at least let me grow up, let me deal with my problems. _I_ have to be blamed and now you're taking it on you again."

Murtagh shook his head and slowly crept out of the bed. He went over to his desk and slumped down on the chair, ignoring the cold. There was a stranger sitting in his bed, and at the moment it was very easy to accept that they could never be together. "You lost me, Eragon. And I lost you. Don't you remember that I, _I_, basically offered myself as your boyfriend last night?" Finally it was out in the open.

"You just mentioned it. However, if you remember what we were talking about, it made kind of sense and-"

"Eragon, I meant it!"

Eragon stopped in mid-sentence, mouth hanging open. "You _meant_ it?"

Murtagh's chest tightened. There was a good chance of Eragon storming out of his place any moment. "Yes," he whispered, voice cracked. "I am the problem, little one. Your brother is a sicko. But I-"

"No, don't say-"

"Please!" Murtagh almost yelled and jumped up, rushing to the bed. He stretched one arm and barred Eragon's lips with his index finger. "Hear me out!" he pleaded.

Without thinking, Eragon grabbed for Winnie, pressed the stuffed animal to his breast, and nodded.

Murtagh made sure he had eye contact before he began. "I have a problem, Eragon. I've tried to hide it for a while, but now… I am willing to do _all_ it takes to keep our family together. Do you hear me?" He picked up pace. "I will see a doctor; I'll get an appointment tomorrow first thing in the morning. I will never, ever do anything like… I don't know. I will be a perfect brother. I can imagine what you're thinking right now, but please… give me a chance. I can do this." He fell silent, trying to decipher his brother's expression, which was a perfect mask; no traces showing of the disgust that he must be feeling.

Eragon was speechless. His brain simply refused to work. All he could think of was that he had just unfairly gone off on his brother, which was irrelevant looking at the broader picture. "Murtagh!" he whispered hoarsely, trying to find the right words. "Murtagh, I would appreciate that a lot, if you were not completely missing something here. Missing _my_ involvement."

"What are you getting at?" Murtagh removed his finger and moved back on top of the bed, sitting at an arm's length away from Eragon, frowning.

"You have a problem? Maybe. But then so do I. _We_ have a problem. You were quite right earlier."

"Wait. I'm not following. What _is_ your problem, exactly?"

"Oh, well, there's a few, actually." Eragon's heart was beating frantically. There was no going back now. "For example, I look at you and think you're handsome…"

"Well, thank you!" Murtagh grimaced. "I'm not too unhappy with my mirror image, either."

"No, no that's not what I mean. Don't try to joke this away. Take mom. She's a beautiful woman. But in her case I can just say that and think that, 'cause I don't feel it… With you, it's different." Eragon saw that Murtagh was refusing to understand. "Okay, another example… I compare every guy I might be interested in with you."

Murtagh shrugged his shoulders. "Not uncommon with us growing up without fathers."

"I… I sometimes sleep in your bed!"

"Well, I've been neglecting you, so maybe that's only normal."

"Murtagh!" Eragon wanted to strangle his brother. "I wanted to kiss you yesterday. Twice! You got anything to say to that, too?"

The older one had not, and the room went dead silent.

After a while Murtagh cleared his throat. "You… you stole my problem!" All of a sudden he began to giggle and pressed his hands to his mouth in a vain effort to stop it. "How lame, Eragon. Can't your problem be something like… fancying gloves? Or being turned on by turtles? Or… or secretly being straight, after all, and lusting for Saphira? Or-"

"Shut up!"

Murtagh fell silent and noticed that his little excursion into insanity had caused tears on his brother's cheeks. His voiced dropped to a soft, low murmur. "Shhh, Eragon. Sorry! I'm sorry! It was just so unreal that… forget about it. Come here!" He motioned with his hand, inviting the other into a hug.

Eragon followed swift and nearly crushed Murtagh when he tightened their embrace, pressing the other to his body. "This is not funny, Murtagh! This is serious!" A sob escaped him and he fought hard not to cry in earnest.

"Yes, yes I know," Murtagh tried to calm him, stroking the other's back. "I lost it for a moment. See it this way: two brothers, both turn out to be gay, and on top of that both are freaks. I mean, it's not like we're identical twins or anything. It _is_ kind of funny in a perverted way."

Eragon did not agree with Murtagh's assessment. "Are we really freaks?" he asked in a whisper.

"I guess so." Murtagh sighed. He had basically confessed that he had feelings for Eragon, who had in turn told him he had wanted to kiss him. Between any other two persons given, those words would be incentives for something great.

"But… but I've thought about this, see?" It hurt to hear Murtagh confirm his question. "Beforehand. Whenever I couldn't sleepy, when I thought about… never mind." Eragon blushed and frowned at the pale light that was now seeping through the window. "What you said about society last night… I honestly think they should not condemn it. I mean, isn't it all about diseases and such? Brothers and _sisters_?"

Patting the other absent-mindedly, Murtagh tried to sort out the thoughts swirling in his head. "Well, yeah. That's where it comes from, I think." Was Eragon adopting a battle stance? "You have really wondered about this, haven't you?"

Eragon ignored him and finally broke their contact. He had reasoned with himself so often; he wanted to see how another person received the arguments. "Yes, I have. And look at it this way: when the siblings in question are gay… or lesbian…"

"…homosexual, so to speak…"

Eragon chuckled against his will. "Homosexual. Whatever, smartass!" Some of their easiness was returning and he felt the enormous weight on him lifting. "Okay, so if the siblings like only their own sex, there are no children. Therefore there is also no one that is getting hurt, is there? I mean, apart from shocked grand-parents or, of course, parents."

"With two losers as genitors… however weird we are, there won't be any angry fathers coming after us." Murtagh deliberately ignored that there was a caring mother.

The younger one pouted playfully, ignoring their mother as well. "At least the loser managing you had money, mine just… died." Never having consciously met his father, and with their mother not missing him much, Eragon saw the early death as merely another part of his biography, no more than a fact. There had always been Murtagh. "Anyhow, I think that people should care more about the real problems of the world! So many are suffering!"

"Which just sounded like you're an ongoing beauty queen holding the final speech," Murtagh pointed out dryly.

Glowering at him once more, Eragon played a trump card. "Thank you very much! If one of us is to be called queen, though, I am _not_ the one using mascara."

"Excuse me?"

"Thorn was so kind to tell me." Eragon smirked. "No need to be ashamed."

"What?" Murtagh knew he was missing something of importance. "What has Thorn told you?"

Eragon laughed out loud, loving the expression on Murtagh's face. "I'm pretty sure he was only kidding, but he talked about you throwing your mascara and-"

"He said _what_?" Murtagh jumped up, causing the whole bed to shake. For emphasis he stomped his foot, too, sending his brother wobbling. "I do _not_ use mascara. Never have. By the power of Greyskull! Thorn is more than just dead!"

Afraid of falling to one side unceremoniously, Eragon held on to the sheets tightly. Murtagh was still battling the mattress, now more out of fun than out of faked anger. "Yeah, I thought so," he hurried to assure the other, still grinning. "I would have found out long ago if it was true, right?"

Murtagh finally stopped being a jerk, and after havng turned off the light they were sitting calmly in the growing twilight.

"You and I..." Eragon began tentatively, afraid to damage the companionable coexistence. "Are we good?"

Murtagh licked his lips. Here he was, _relaxed_, next to his brother, with truths revealed that he doubted many others could have handled. It was almost too good to be true. "We're good. Better than good, I guess." He smiled and reached out for his brother's hand, squeezing it. In contrast to yesterday, there was nothing sexual about their contact and both enjoyed it full-heartedly.

"And… now?" Eragon asked, his question accompanied by his stomach rumbling.

"Hmm, breakfast?"

"Deal!" Eragon crawled off the bed, feeling light as a feather. His family was home to two weirdos now, but he had not lost Murtagh. Years of imagining had not prepared him for such an outcome and never had he thought that his brother had something to reveal as well. Although they had yet to talk about their confessions, still caring for each other was all that mattered.

Eragon stopped musing when he was holding his jeans in his hand and noticed the absence of anything eatable in the room. "Err, what are we going to eat?"

"There's a cafeteria downstairs, I'd thought we could grab some things and come back here. They always open earlier than humanly possible."

"You're saying that there aren't any humans working there?"

"Judging by the food? Definitely not." Murtagh stopped in the midst of changing his shirt, smiling at his brother. When he saw the other looking at his bare chest he quickly resumed dressing. Problems did not go away only because they had talked about them and more or less decided that they should not be there. "Make sure to grab your jacket; the hallways are freezing."

"I can just wear the Batman shirt underneath, right? I mean, no one is going to see it." Eragon had directed his gaze back to his clothes, simply too lazy to do more than absolutely necessary.

"Sure. Sleeping shirt or no, it looks good on you anyway." Murtagh grinned. "I should make you wear more of my clothes…"

"Help!" Eragon was chuckling on their way out the door. "Please don't. I know there's some pretty mean stuff hiding in your closet, clothes that should have never been made, let alone bought, let alone worn."

When they returned to Murtagh's room about one quarter of an hour later, their hands were as empty as they had been on the way out. Having decided that the breakfast did not look edible that morning, they had simply bought some fruit and candy bars and nothing had lasted the whole way back.

Routinely checking his cell, Murtagh saw that he had a message waiting. "Arya."

"Huh?" Eragon stopped examining the pictures Murtagh had glued to his door. "What about her?"

Murtagh's eyes scanned the display. "She says she has sent me an email and that it's urgent. Odd." Nevertheless he turned on his computer, waiting patiently for all programs to run and the internet to connect. Suddenly his brother was at his side, pushing him halfway off the chair, smugly sitting on the newly created free space and daring him with a grin to complain. Murtagh, however, did not mind sharing; he relished in the feel of the other body so close to his. "Here it is." He opened the mail and two pairs of eyes began reading.

"No way!" Eragon shook his head. "I can't believe she… open the file, c'mon."

"Yeah, wait." Murtagh downloaded the attached sound file and hit play.

"_I, Steve Miller, hereby acknowledge all those cruel crimes that I have committed. I apology to you, Eragon Rider, for saying what I said and will not… bother… you in the future."_ They looked at each other, astonished. _"You were a fun toy to play with, but every toy becomes boring at some point."_

"I love her!" Murtagh's eyes lit up, a malicious smile playing about his lips. "She has thought of everything. Freakin' lawyer's kids. Awesome!"

"…_it really hurts me to see that you think so badly of me…"_

"I don't know." Eragon furrowed his brows, not too fond of hearing Steve's voice. "What am I supposed to do with it? She writes that you must give it to me before I'm leaving…"

"Eragon, this is in case Steve tries something at school tomorrow." Murtagh watched the other's expression change and they grinned. "We'll put it on your phone and I want to see him deny it. But wait," he opened the top drawer and rummaged through it for a moment, before producing a cable with which he connected his cell to the computer, "I'll just put it on my phone now and we can share later."

"Well, we shouldn't forget, then. I'd rather do it now." Eragon bit his lip and he looked shyly at his brother. "I kind of don't want to go home today…"

Murtagh's features darkened immediately. "Afraid of mom? We don't have to tell her more than necessary. Some Steve stuff and that's enough."

"No, I didn't mean mom, though that's surely a problem, too. I just don't feel like leaving you today."

"Oh. I forgot to tell you, didn't I?" Murtagh's smile was back. "I'm coming home with you and will be staying the night." The answering smile he got outclassed every sunrise and made his heart flutter.

"You are? That's great." Eragon clapped his hands in excitement. "I can't even tell you how that makes me feel. With all that has happened, you know, some more talking…" he waved a hand dismissingly. "But, wait!" He turned pensive. "What about your lectures? You're going to miss classes tomorrow."

"Yes."

"You shouldn't!"

"I know," Murtagh's smile widened, "but I can. That's what it's all about. It's not high school anymore." In this moment, his phone rang, making them both jump. "What's wrong today? Was I the only one sleeping?" Murtagh complained, answering nonetheless. "Thorn? What do you want? Do you know what time it is?"

Eragon leaned in close until he could hear the very excited copper-haired.

"_9:30 by now, if I'm not mistaken. Listen. You're going home today, right? With Eragon?"_

"Yeah, I am." The brothers exchanged a looked, both shrugging.

"_I need a ride."_

"Well, sure." Murtagh paused. "Is this about Saphira?" He would not make it _that _easy for Thorn.

"_Stop asking stupid question. I know Eragon has told you. So, when are we going?" _Thorn sounded as if he was either on some overdose of caffeine or had not slept at all.

Murtagh glanced at Eragon, who held up two fingers. "Two p.m."

"_What? Why did I get up this early? Can't we go __sooner?"_

"If you don't tell me anything then I also can't plan anything. Two o'clock or you're not going at all!"

Thorn growled audibly. _"Alright, two it is. You're misusing my helplessness."_

Eragon grabbed the phone, giggling. "Thorn? What about just not overlooking your neighbour's wall anymore? Your car would like that as well, I think."

"_Whatever!" _Yet Thorn was laughing quietly. _"See you later then. Two o'clock sharp, you guys better be on time!" _

"Else…?"

"_I don't know. Be there!"_

"We will, don't worry."

"_Bye!"_

"Bye bye!" Eragon hung up, amused. "Hey, would you lend me your cell to text Saph really quick?" He found hazel eyes focused on him, flashing, and was worried that his heartbeat would wake the neighbours. Murtagh was coming home with him!

"Help yourself." Murtagh ruffled through his brother's hair while handing him the phone. He noticed how the other involuntarily leaned in to the touch and felt warmth spreading through his body. Avoiding it as much as they did, neither could deny what had been said this morning. And apparently he was not the only one who did not mind. "May I ask what you're writing her?"

"_this is Eragon. must talk to you later. urgently_." Eragon read aloud what he had written so far, sending Murtagh a shy smile at the implication. He proceeded. "_but… first… I'll… bring… you… your… dragon._ Damn! Why am I so slow when it comes to texting?"

"Dragon?" Murtagh looked bewildered. "Do you mean... Thorn?"

"Yeah… Don't ask!"


	10. Home is where the heart is

**A/N:** I hate author's note saying that the author is sorry for the long wait. I really do. But, all I can say right now is that… I am truly sorry for the long wait :) This update took me almost two weeks, and that's a negative record. Anyhow, here it is at last.

Personal checklist for Damned-Like-Beauty:

Is my family securely assembled in the living room, calm and relaxed? Good

Is my boyfriend tied to the bed, unable to move? Good

Are there any sharp items in the house that could cause injuries? No? Good

Okay, you may read now xD

* * *

**Home is where the heart is**

* * *

"There he is." Murtagh honked and pulled over, then honked again.

Eragon watched his brother sceptically. "He's standing in plain sight, staring, no, glaring at us. Why are you honking?"

"Thorn psychology, Eragon." Murtagh honked again. "We're ten minutes late, which usually doesn't matter, but he looks pissed off now. So the more I honk," he did it yet again, "the more I give him the feeling that he has messed up somehow. It usually works just fine."

Eragon shook his head and smiled. He leaned back contentedly, deciding that Murtagh was not only capable of handling the angry bear awaiting them, but also responsible for getting him angry in the first place. He had no idea what had taken his brother so long before leaving; after all, he still had clothes back home for exactly this case of him coming over. Suddenly he realized, though, that there was a faint possibility of one or two items of clothing having wandered into his closet, and he made a mental note to check that later before Murtagh had a chance to notice.

The Mustang came to a rather abrupt stop that send Eragon jumping when he realized that he would have to let Thorn in. Sure enough, the tall man was already at his door and almost yanked Eragon out. He then climbed into the backseat with a low rumble of curses that neither one of the Riders could decipher. Murtagh just smiled at his brother and shrugged his shoulders.

"Eragon! Get back in!" Thorn barked, before his features softened a little. "Really, Taggy. Don't you make me feel guilty ever again for being late. Here you are, ruining _my_ reputation."

"What reputation, Thorn? The one Saphira is all too familiar with since she's known you closely for so many years?" Murtagh winked in the rear view mirror, at the same time enjoying the feel of the gas pedal giving way under his foot. He felt Eragon watch him and his mood got even better.

"Funny. Of course I mean my _future_ reputation. I said I would be on time. I can't be late on… well, I can't be late. Period."

"Late on what? First date? Aww, Thorny, how cute!"

"Leave me alone! I'm just visiting."

"Don't worry," Eragon cut in, his eyes never leaving Murtagh. "I'll message her that we're a little late. I often am, so she will conclude the right thing." Murtagh glanced over for a split second and Eragon's heart missed a beat. They had not said a single word about what they had learned this morning, yet something had changed. Was changing. Eragon had no idea what exactly was going on, but their usual, deeply affectionate brotherliness was now accompanied by more, though it was still fragile and he did not dare pondering about it.

"Good," Thorn grumbled, though he was indeed pacified. "Anyhow… You two are best friends right?"

"Sure. Just like you and Murtagh, only that we're being nice to each other and care about the other's feelings and so on." Eragon grinned, thoughts turning to the blonde. Happy as he was for her, he could not wait to tell her _his_ news.

"Tss. We're being nice enough." Thorn reached out and ruffled through Murtagh's hair, who reacted by slapping the hand bothering him. "He's courted me so many times and I'm still at his side, doesn't that mean anything?"

Eragon's eyebrows shot up. Was Thorn being serious?

Murtagh's mouth twitched upwards in an ironic smirk. "In your dreams, Thorn, in your dreams. I do have taste." With a pleased sigh he entered the highway, again accelerating. As they were a little late, he thought it was perfectly justified to ignore the speed limits for a while.

Thorn simply laughed. "Whatever. But what kept you so long in the fist place? Couldn't stop making out?" When his jest was greeted with deadly silence, he looked up. "Uhm, did I miss something?"

Eragon recovered first and turned around disapprovingly. "What part of being brothers don't you understand?"

"Relax, tiny. I was joking." Yet Thorn's eyes flickered to Murtagh's in the mirror, and when he saw his friend's silent plea to quit the topic he knew something had happened.

"Good." Eragon turned around again. "Could I use your phone once more?" This was directed at Murtagh. "And yes, I will start carrying around my charger from now on."

Murtagh reached into his pocket and handed Eragon his cell. "You're ruining me, little one. I expect compensation." His joke failed just as Thorn's had and he exchanged a nervous, apologetic smile with his brother.

Eragon ignored all implications and instead texted Saphira. _sry, we're late. don't blame it on your sweetheart. need to talk to you later. love ya. Era _Without thinking he slipped the cell into his own pocket before he focused on Murtagh again. How could it possibly be that someone so handsome was so close and… reachable? He had declined driving today, eager to simply watch Murtagh and at the same time convinced he would not be as concentrated on the road as the other was.

The vibration alert of an incoming message interrupted his musings. The cell was dangerously close to what defined him as a man and he blushed heavily, becoming aware of where his thoughts had led him. _Are you speeding? Tell Murtagh to slow down and don't say sweetheart! Unless you refer to Murtagh that is… What happened?? _Eragon's head shot up and he looked at Thorn once more, noticing the older boy playing with a cell in his hand. He blushed anew. He was not used to Saphira knowing more about a situation than what he himself told her. _did I msg you or my mother? Murtagh is getting us home safely. pls ignore all that Thorn has written you. I'll tell you later._

"What's wrong?" Murtagh watched Eragon closely, noticing his discomfort. "What the hell is she writing to make you blush like that? Perhaps I need her to tutor me…" Eragon was truly delicious like this.

"Murtagh!" Thorn rolled his eyes. "I don't want to know. I just don't. And leave Saphira alone."

"Relax. I don't like girls."

"She's pretty enough to change all that."

"I don't think so."

"Are you saying she's not pretty?"

"Thorn…"

Eragon chuckled quietly and ignored the further bantering. Murtagh wanted to make him blush? He could have that. The phone vibrated again and Eragon frowned. _Oh, all protective now, are we? By the way, I got both the cut and uncut version of Arya's tape recorder. I'm proud of you. Steve's done! Love you! _Eragon's frown deepened. "Is there anyone that Arya has not sent the sound file? Thorn?"

"Erm, no. Got the email this morning. I mean, it's not like I wasn't there or anything, or that I was the one who taped it, but she sent it to me nonetheless."

"Eragon." Murtagh's low voice and reasonable tone erased the wrinkles on his brother's face. "We already talked about this. It's a good thing, and I'm sure that by now you know of everyone that has been informed. Saphira you would have told anyways, and as things are, that's how Thorn would have learned, too."

"Shut up!" Thorn mumbled.

"Yeah…" Eragon sighed. "Reason tells me you're right, it's only that it's embarrassing."

"That's what _you_ think. From what I heard, I think it was a clear and definite final stroke. Wait a week or two…" Murtagh snorted. "No, make that a month or two. Anyhow, one day you'll thank her."

"One day." Eragon confirmed, though Murtagh's words calmed him. His brother's opinion was what mattered most, after all. "Hmm." He chose to change the topic. "Music, anyone?"

"Fine with me." Murtagh was smiling to himself. He was going home, together with Eragon, at a point of time when their future perhaps held more than only the family tie. He was sure he had never been as willing to put up with his brother's taste of music.

"Nooo," Thorn groaned. "Please don't! Here's the deal, tiny. I've spent considerable time in front of the mirror today." He said it so boastfully that both brother's felt the need to nod in agreement, silently acknowledging the effort and its result. "And if you go for Backstreet Boys now, all my hairs will stand on end and uncontrolled disgust might contort my features and-"

Thorn had hit the mark regarding one of Eragon's soft spots. "That was years ago!" He nearly yelled. "A lifetime ago! I'm freakin' seventeen!"

Murtagh started to laugh, remembering clearly the incident eight years ago at his birthday party. It had still been a children's party, of course, but they had all considered themselves far too old for that. At one point, young Eragon had stormed upstairs, locked himself up in his room and had begun to blast said boygroup as a response to Thorn calling him the only child present. It had been raining that day and so the whole, exclusively male party had had to endure the ordeal in the living room. Eventually it had been Selena, threatening her youngest with God knows what, that had convinced Eragon to stop the music and sulk in silence.

"Sweet Jesus!" Thorn was laughing, too. "Still able to produce a lot of noise, he?" It was far too funny to tease Eragon.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Eragon saw that his effort was futile, yet he was desperate to cover up that incidence. "Please?" he added quietly, making himself sound helpless, and sure enough Murtagh stopped right away, sending him a warm smile. Thorn, however, laughed on. Eragon grinned back at his brother, openly admitting his cheap deceit. Then he leaned forward and checked the glove compartment, finding an album of HIM. That would do the job just fine. He inserted the CD, hit play, and turned up the volume of the back speakers until he could not hear Thorn anymore. He did not know, though, whether that was due to the immense noise or to Thorn actually having stopped laughing.

Murtagh reached out with his right hand and covered Eragon's left, which was still on the control panel, and both stilled at the contact. Then he slowly turned down the volume. "Shutting up biggie is a good thing, but I'd like my ears to survive it." He broke the contact and tugged at his hair self-consciously. He had spent more time than usual in the bathroom this morning, and had also dressed carefully, but so far Eragon had not commented in any way. Did he not like it? Or was he simply too shy? Matters were different now than Murtagh was used to and that unnerved him.

Eragon smirked. "She's going to like it, Murtagh. No need to be all fidgety." His brother had indeed not been his usual confident self today and although Eragon knew that he was the main cause for it, he still wanted and needed the composed, cool Murtagh back.

"Huh?"

"Your hair. You keep tugging on it."

"With 'she' you mean mom?"

"Sure. It's not like she won't let you in now that it's an inch shorter." Eragon thought that Murtagh was truly worrying about the wrong things.

"Well," Murtagh shrugged his shoulders, "if you say so." He did not dare to inform Eragon that he had completely misinterpreted the situation. Instead he focused on the fact that his brother had actually noticed the little change. "Do _you_ like it?"

What a question! "Yeah, I like it." Eragon cocked his head, observing Murtagh closely, noticing how the raven black hair fell in soft strands, just covering the ears. "But you know, you could pull of a whole lot of styles. Won't make you any less…" He did not finish the sentence, his hands suddenly clammy.

"Make me what?"

Eragon smiled shyly and only mumbled the answer. "Attractive." He looked quickly away and out of the window. To his relief Murtagh did not make any comment.

Unfortunately, Thorn had overheard it.

"Stop! Am I allowed to talk again, Mister I'm-into-dark-and-loud-music-these-days?"

"Uh, yeah," Eragon told the window.

"Good, 'cause I think we should spent the time remaining with something useful and not with… whatever it is that you guys are doing there in the front. Saphira, for example." Thorn pronounced the name softly.

Against his will Eragon had to smile again, embarrassment retreating. "What about her?"

"Well, we've talked a lot yesterday, really, but I feel like I still don't know anything."

"Go ahead."

"What's her favourite food?"

"Fruit salad or loin of venison, depends." Eragon turned his head again and found Murtagh looking at him, pointing his chin in the direction of Thorn and rolling his eyes.

"Venison? Help!" Thorn's voice was a pitch higher than usual. "Where can I get that? Anyway, does she prefer cats or dogs?"

Eragon burst out laughing. "For food?"

"Don't make me strangle you!"

Eragon raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, Thorn. You're too cute. Cats, actually. But also her uncle's dog."

"Yeah, so, err, what does she like guys to wear?"

Murtagh shook his head, grinning. Carvahall was close now, but he raced on, determined to save his brother as soon as possible from the interrogation.

Soon they were at Saphira's, Eragon deeply annoyed and Murtagh lost in thought, having left the conversation ages ago. Thorn, however, was a bag of nerves, albeit a positively excited one. Eragon walked him to the door, greeted his friend with a tight hug and then backed down, watching Thorn and Saphira nervously embrace each other. He applauded quietly behind Thorn's back - which earned him a radiant smile from Saphira - before he turned around and walked back to the car, eager to get warm again.

"Eragon!" Saphira called and waited for him to face her. "Don't think you're getting away so easily." She grinned mischievously. "I'm waiting for a full report. Tomorrow, second period."

"Hey, that's biology. I need to pay attention," Eragon protested weakly.

Saphira only smiled and went inside, pulling Thorn along. "I'm waiting!" she yelled and slammed the door shut.

Eragon sighed and returned to the car. Just before he entered, he paused and wondered. Maybe there was even more he could tell Saphira tomorrow. After all, Murtagh had admitted that there were feelings on his side, too. And he was spending the night… Eragon's heart sped up and he tore open the door enthusiastically.

Yet first they both had to face Selena, whose worry for Eragon was so dominant that she could not even be happy that her oldest was home for one of his rare visits. She ushered them both to the couch in the living room, shoving a piece of cake into Eragon's hands and a beer into Murtagh's and her own.

Murtagh eyes went wide and darted back and forth between his mother and the beer. As long as he had still been living here, it had always been a nuisance to come back home quietly after a party when he had drunk something, or when he and Thorn had bought and then hidden said beverage. "Mom?" he asked tentatively.

"Mom?" Eragon asked at the same time, reproachfully.

"Oh," Selena muttered. "You don't want it, hon? I thought you wouldn't mind one with all the fuzz going on."

"It's beer!" Murtagh pointed out, nonetheless taking a sip, thinking to himself that perhaps there was more than one reason to be home more often.

"Well," Selena defended herself, "you're all grown up now, living on your own and such. Your grades are good. So why not be _the man_ in this house. At least, when you're here." She joined Murtagh in laughing; both aware that according to that criterion she should have offered him a beer more than a decade ago.

"Mom!" Eragon now complained loudly.

Selena's features softened and she cupped the blond's cheek with one hand. "I'm sorry, honey. This is about _you_! Take a bite, cake has always been good for you, and then maybe you can tell me what happened. I mean, of course, all that you want to tell me. I understand I am your mother and all, but still you probably want to-"

"Mom!" Eragon groaned in frustration. "I don't want to be center of attention right now. I only want a beer, too."

"No, honey. You're far too young."

"Murtagh's twenty!"

"_My_ dad was a European…" Murtagh cut in smugly, avoiding his brother's elbow aiming for his rips.

Eragon gave up and sighed. As so often he was not sure whether his family was a blessing or a curse. His eyes darted to Murtagh and he changed his opinion. Blessing. "Anyway… I'm not with Steve anymore. And that's a good thing." He eyed the cake and decided to give it a try. True enough, it was delicious. Who was that Steve guy again?

"Yes, Murtagh told me yesterday." Selena came to sit next to her son, taking his hand. "You sound alright, Eragon, and look good, too, but… you were so in love with him, weren't you? What happened?"

Eragon sighed and glanced at his brother once more, who was slowly relaxing, apparently preparing himself to hear everything yet again. "That's kind of a long story… I've been blind, mom. Stupidly so."

Compassion showed on her face. "Tell me. If you've been blind, then so have I."

"How much time do you have?" Eragon grinned and turned serious again. "Yeah, I could have noticed weeks, no, months, ago, but I didn't…" He plunged into a long and detailed description of the relationship that was no more, naturally leaving out any explicit details. He noticed how it did him good, yet his mother was an exhausting questioner. After about an hour they had finally arrived at the events of the weekend and Eragon tensed. All the excitement in connection with Murtagh had made him forget how Steve had hurt him, and although he considered it his past now, there was a dull ache left inside of him.

Suddenly, yet very cautiously, his other hand was being taken as well. Strong fingers enlaced with his and squeezed lightly, supporting him without words. The weight that had so unexpectedly pushed him down lifted again and it became easier for Eragon to finish his story, though he had trouble concentrating.

It was Murtagh that soon changed the topic to neutral, lighter terrain, talking about professors and fellow students, until Selena left them reluctantly, heading for the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was only then, when their mother got up and Eragon's body did not hide their hands anymore, that Murtagh let go. There were butterflies in his stomach, fluttering madly. He cleared his throat. "Well, I'll go and change into a shirt," he pointed at his warm, dark blue hoodie, "and then set the table, I guess."

Eragon was momentarily lost in Murtagh's eyes before he pulled himself together. "Sure. I'll go and help mom right away. Gotta talk to her about possible college plans and such. You know, things have changed a little since… actually since two days ago." He smiled coyly and got up, leaving Murtagh behind.

Dinner passed pleasantly, and Selena accepted her sons' early withdrawal from the table with only so much as a raised eyebrow. "Don't sleep in!" she called after Eragon, satisfied with the grunt she got in response.

Once in his former room, Murtagh let out a long sigh. Whatever it was that was going on between him and Eragon right now, it was going on nicely. He walked over to his old desk and opened the top drawer, finding his favourite sort of cookies. He made a mental note to thank his mother tomorrow and then grabbed the remote control, turning on the TV. He hoped to find a good thriller or at least a crime show to watch, to take his mind off things for a while.

At the same time Eragon was standing in front of what was now the guest room of the house and hesitated. After a moment he plucked up his courage and knocked, opening the door right away. "Hey!" His doubt as to whether he was welcome was dispelled immediately when Murtagh welcomed him with the most beautiful smile. "Can I come in?"

"You already are."

"Yeah," Eragon chuckled and then smiled brightly. "Guess what I just found in my room."

"I don't know."

"On the wall."

Murtagh was as innocent as an angel. "What did you find on your wall?"

"Oh, Murtagh. That's really sweet of you."

"Well…" The older one chuckled. "I remember you saying that you had always wanted it and so I thought…" He had sneaked into his brother's room earlier and had fixed his old Mickey Mouse clock to the wall.

Eragon nodded approvingly. "I love it, thank you!" He closed the distance to the bed on which Murtagh was sitting and lowered his voice. "I kind of left Winnie in Daret…"

Murtagh's heart went soft. "But he's so dear to you."

"That's why."

They looked at each other for a while, the room quiet except for the TV in the background. Then Eragon dismissed the situation and waved his hand around. "Anyhow, as it's quite early still, I thought that, well, since you're leaving again tomorrow and all, I could just come over for a bit."

Murtagh reached out and tousled through his brother's hair. "Sure. Let's watch some TV, what do you think?"

"Great!" Eragon settled himself comfortably next to Murtagh, resting his back against the wall of the room. But he could not yet bring himself to look at the screen. The shirt Murtagh had picked earlier was mainly black and looked as if a tiger had clawed it, yet instead of torn fabric there were deep red stripes running along the length. It had caught Eragon's eye already at the dinner table, especially because it was rather tight and showed off his brother's toned body. "That shirt looks good on you," he said without thinking and blushed.

Murtagh smirked. "Ha! You're blushing! I made it! But thanks…" Eragon would not say that if the rest was not looking good, too, right? He swallowed down the remnants of a cookie and realized guiltily that he had not offered any. He produced the package that was hidden from his brother's view. "Sorry, I'm being rude. Want one?"

"A cookie?" Eragon watched the other sceptically. "Err, didn't you say something about minding crumbs in your bed?"

"I did. But… don't you remember the circumstance in which it was okay for someone to eat in my bed?" Murtagh felt his fingertips tingle. "I mean… with me."

The scene he had already remembered two nights ago was back in Eragon's head: Murtagh with some boyfriend of his, munching chips in bed. His heart missed a beat. "I do. I remember." He bit his lip. "Yes, I would like a cookie. Very much!"


	11. The black knight

**A/N:** Oi! Done. And never again will I start a multi-chaptered fic when I'm so busy. And now there's also the EURO 2008 and I _must_ watch four to five hours soccer daily. I love it, true, but I feel bad for having taken so long updating.

* * *

**The black knight  
**

* * *

"That's all he said? 'We'll talk later'?" Saphira stomped a foot on the ground while absentmindedly gathering her assortment of pens and pencils and sheets that she had scribbled on during biology. Only on one of them were words, though, the rest was littered with drawings of dragons and caves and an occasional bunny here or there, all of the latter a bit more clumsy, clearly Eragon's doing. "He can't do that!" She slammed her backpack on the desk for emphasis before grabbing it again, more gently, and heading for the door.

Eragon followed suit, focused on the blond locks whipping in front of his face. "That's all that's bothering you? That it wasn't the farewell it should have been?" He tried to catch her eye, but his passing manoeuvre was hindered by the doorframe.

Saphira whirled around on hearing her friend moan in pain. "Eragon!" He was holding his nose, which sure enough began to bleed right away, and Saphira's hands dived in the pockets of her jacket to emerge again with a clean hanky after a second. "Here." She pulled him to the side of the hallway. "You alright? What are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Eragon assured, annoyed with himself. "I just ran into a door, that's all." He saw Saphira staring at him and could not decide whether she was looking angry or concerned. "But what I was saying… after all I told you, you criticize what's happened this morning? Nothing else?"

Saphira's half-frown was erased and she was pensive for a moment. "I just… oh, it's difficult, Eragon!" Her eyes already darted along the length of the corridor, estimating the time she would need to her locker and then to her next class. "You know what I've always thought about this, but now that he's basically said that he's… well, literally just like you… things are different I guess."

Eragon looked away and lowered his voice. "Different as in… disgusting?"

"Don't ask me that, please." Saphira was desperate. "I'm ignoring the family connection right now. All I see is that for some mysterious reason your old dream has already partly come true and that's what's important." She rubbed a hand over her face, her ears twitching at the sound of the bell. "Look, I have to go. But remember this: your happiness comes first… as does mine." Her eyes were sparkling and she was grinning helplessly at this. "See you for lunch!" She breathed a kiss to Eragon's chin and was gone.

Eragon smiled a little while he watched her go, not exactly feeling the need to hurry to his English class, hanky still pressed to his nose. He could not hold it against Saphira that her date with Thorn had gone perfectly yesterday, and some little part of him was cheering along with her, but his own problems were occupying him far more.

He was falling for his brother.

And said brother, sweet as he had been all weekend, and definite as he had been yesterday, had barely woken up this morning when Eragon had said goodbye. By unspoken agreement he knew they had to take their time, but this? He had tried to hug Murtagh briefly, but had not received more than a tired pat on his arm as response. Let alone any coherent sentence.

Eragon sighed and swallowed down the lump in his throat. They would talk on the phone later; matters would be alright. Murtagh would say that he was sorry for not seeing him off. At least that was what he wished.

xxx

"I just met Steve and he… avoided me." Eragon stood perplexed in the middle of the cafeteria, his tray of food in front of him. He did not mind, but his ex' behaviour was different than expected.

"Oh," Saphira remarked innocently, arriving at her friends' side.

"Oh?"

"Oh!" She led the way to a little table, squeezing through a throng of guys on the way, oblivious to their low whistles. "Pfff, weaklings."

Eragon smiled and followed her. Saphira had in fact walked right through the athletic crowd, boys that were role models for the rest of the male high school population in terms of muscle. Then again, when he thought of Thorn, they shrank in front of his eyes, looking indeed a little weak.

"I had sort of prepared myself for being jeered at today, I've thought he'd make fun of me. But – nothing!" Eragon sat down and immediately pulled at his jeans. They were low on his hips and he was afraid that people could see more of him than he would ever care for.

"Hmm." Saphira was stirring her yoghurt with a plastic spoon, avoiding to look at Eragon. "Well, I guess that's what he would have done… if I hadn't just run into him, too."

Eragon froze and granted his sandwich another minute of life. "What did you do?"

Stirring some more, Saphira tried unsuccessfully to divert his attention away from herself and towards the yoghurt. When she looked up, though, she saw bright blue eyes fixed on her and smirked. "I went for the truth. Or rather, my cell did. I saw him approaching and simply played the file… he heard it, and some of his friends heard it, too." Her smirk widened. "I mean, they're probably on his side and everything, but still it looked like they didn't like it. And Steve…" She sniggered. "Steve turned into a stone golem. Then it looked like he was coming for me, so I informed him that I'm seeing Thorn this afternoon… and he was gone." Saphira was triumphant and she finally started eating. "Seriously, if he's going to stir up trouble, this sound file will stop him. He really doesn't like it. You should've seen his face. Priceless!"

Eragon had listened quietly, the rational part of his mind saying that Saphira had done well, that Steve would not bother him anymore. Meanwhile, another voice in his head had been telling him constantly how unimportant all of this really was, that he should find solutions for other problems. Actually, that voice had only repeated one word, over and over. _Murtagh… Murtagh… Murtagh. _The mere thought of the older one made Eragon's heart race. "Saph! What do I do?"

"Huh? As I said, I think it's all good."

"With Murtagh…"

She needed only a second to direct her thoughts to another direction. "Call him when you get home."

"I want to see him!" Eragon exclaimed rather loudly. Until now he had not realized how strong that desire had been. Then his shoulders dropped and he lowered his voice. "And he's just… gone. Mom said they'd have breakfast together this morning before he was leaving."

Saphira reached over the table and took one of Eragon's hands in her own. "For a short while Thorn and I touched on the subject yesterday. No, no," she interrupted her friend opening his mouth, "not about you being brothers or anything." She quickly gulped down more yoghurt. "Only about _something_ going on, and he said that Murtagh's quite persistent. And I think that if he's been – for his standards – so very open about feelings and such, then he'll make sure of you two staying in contact. After all, he offered you a cookie – in bed!" Her eyes began to sparkle once more.

"I hope so," Eragon muttered, picking out a slice of tomato from his meal and swallowing it without chewing, unaffected by her positive attitude. His eyes turned sad. "I guess that I had truly hoped to see him this morning…" He shoved the remaining sandwich around on his plate, thinking only about his the raven-haired, remembering how close they had been last night, how good Murtagh had looked in that tight T-shirt... He, Eragon, had spent almost twenty minutes in front of his closet this morning, dressing and redressing, wanting to look good in the eyes of the one who mattered.

Eyes that had not even opened.

Saphira opened her mouth to respond, but was cut short by the bell signalling the end of their lunch break. She scowled at Eragon's unfinished meal before smiling at him encouragingly when the noise was over. "Don't worry so much. If this is already so hard for you, what do you think it will be like if… you know, _if_ it gets serious?" Her smile was gone. "There'll be stress to no end, Eragon. I mean, friends, family…" She left the sentence unfinished and got up, taking both of their trays.

"I know," Eragon whispered to himself.

xxx

"So, you're going to see Thorn today?" Eragon tried in vain to hide his jealousy.

Saphira shrugged. "I'm not quite sure, but yeah, we might have a date later. Thorn was talking about some surprise." She dumped an armful of books and folders in her locker and smiled at Eragon, who was leaning against the wall next to her.

"That's good," he commented without any enthusiasm, frowning at her for taking so long.

Saphira laughed. "You're impossible. And yes, I'm done," she answered his unasked question. "I'll get you home and you'll get the phone. Things will be fine, believe me."

"Whatever."

Saphira jabbed Eragon in the ribs and led the way to the parking lot, her keys already in her hand. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. "Err…"

"What the-" Eragon fell silent, staring at the distant spectacle on the parking lot. "Something's going on…" He saw people clustering in groups, all looking the same direction.

Suddenly Saphira squeaked and hurried on. Her eyesight had always been better than Eragon's. "Oh my God!" She halted again, now everything in clear sight.

Eragon was at her side in an instant, feeling close to squeaking himself. Someone was attracting the attention of at least half the people walking to their cars at that moment. Plus the attention of those already at their cars, who could not force themselves to get in just yet. Someone that did not even do anything special. Someone who simply stood there, clad completely in black, leaning casually against his likewise black Mustang. Someone whose eyes glanced from face to face without any interest, though obviously searching for someone.

Murtagh.

Saphira rolled her eyes. "Hell no!"

"What?" Eragon asked while pulling her along, stomping through the mud of snow on the ground, rushing towards his brother.

"Eragon!" She stopped and forced him to face her for a second. "That's so… _Hollywood_."

Eragon grinned, his entire face glowing. "No, Saph. It's _hot_!"

"Only because he's got a fancy car…"

"…and looks better than anyone else…"

"… and is evidently waiting for you. Gah! I get it." Saphira made yet another funny noise. "It's cute, I guess! So… cliché, but cute. The black knight and his black horse, here to save the heroine…"

Eragon ignored the comment, having finally caught Murtagh's eye. The other's face lit up and he pushed himself away from the car, standing tall and erect, expecting him.

"Hey, little one," Murtagh greeted when Eragon was finally at his side, his low voice sending shivers down the younger one's spine.

"You're here," Eragon pointed out in bewilderment, his eyes wide.

True concern flashed over Murtagh's face for an instant. "You don't want me to be?"

"No!" Eragon laughed quietly, the tension that had been building inside of him finally subsiding. "I mean, I want you to be here. I thought that… well, never mind. Saph? I'm going with-" he looked to his right where his friend had been a moment ago, then looked left, then over his shoulder. "Where is she?"

"Over there." Murtagh had raised a hand and waved at Saphira who in response blew him a kiss, shortly after followed by a second directed at Eragon. Then she jumped into her car. Murtagh smiled before turning to Eragon again. "Does that mean she approves?"

"I'm not sure whether she really does - yet. Right now, though, I think she approves of everything in this world. Thorn's fault."

"As long as she approves of _him_, too… Do you want to drive?"

Eragon cast a look around involuntarily, seeing that there were still more than a few people eyeing them. He felt himself grow an inch or two. "Hell yes!"

Murtagh tossed him the key, laughing, and walked over to the passenger's side. "Show-off," he mumbled, loud enough for the other to hear.

"Ha!" Eragon snorted, in one swift movement opening the door and seating himself comfortably behind the wheel. "Look who's talking! You'll be topic number one for days to come at Carvahall High."

"Will I?"

"Most definitely." Eragon revved the engine, bathing in the sound. He was beaming at Murtagh with only the slightest glimmer of tease in his eyes. "Notorious heart-throb returning, looking better than ever before. You're not yet forgotten here." A swift glance to the mirror told him he was hardly flushing today. Very good!

"Oh, so you think I was the only one attracting looks?" Murtagh had raised an eyebrow and could not help but smile when Eragon threw him a glance. "Well, I guess it should be a compliment for me if you haven't noticed anything else…"

"Murtagh!" Eragon shook his head. "It's really nice of you to imply that… what you're implying. But you had the undivided attention." His face was eventually warming a little and he grabbed the wheel forcefully, trying to concentrate solely on the street.

"Not quite. My car had most of it. Apart from that, I did see some heads turning when you passed them."

Eragon only snorted, deep crimson.

"_Have_ you made the acquaintance of a mirror lately, Eragon?" Murtagh watched the other closely, again taking in every detail. His brother had put on a pair of dark jeans, which only stayed on his hips due to a broad belt. And the open jacket did not hide the blue shirt underneath, clinging closely to Eragon's body. Murtagh was openly checking out his brother – _lustfully _so!

Eragon was staring straight ahead, trying to calm his racing pulse. "Yeah, this morning, actually." He felt that the air between them was on fire, but did not dare to look over at Murtagh. "So… do you like what you're seeing?" His throat was dry.

"Yes. Delicious."

Eragon began to grin like a maniac. He should have known better than to be anxious all day long. "But what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be going back to Daret? You have lots of lectures, right?"

Murtagh waved a hand dismissingly. "Maybe, but most of all I have priorities. I've behaved impossible this morning. It was just that… I have kind of been awake almost all night."

"You have?" Eragon was glad for the red traffic light, glancing at Murtagh. "Why?" He himself had fallen asleep soon after their TV session, no without being obscenely happy, but still very fast.

"Thinking." Murtagh stared at his hands, flexing the muscles of every finger. "Thinking and imagining." His voice turned authoritative. "Pull over!"

"What?"

"Over there. Parking lot behind Sally's Pizza Place."

Reluctantly Eragon left the street and came to a stop. He turned off the engine, his mind trying to catch up with the conversation. Murtagh's expression did not give away anything. "You're talking nonsense."

Murtagh smiled apologetically. "I'm nervous."

"You? _You_ are nervous?" Eragon laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Never knew you could be. Try my tactics: act all cool and pretend that everything is normal. I mean, it's not working for me, but maybe you can pull it off." He was still chuckling when he noticed Murtagh stiffen. "What is it?"

Murtagh scanned the surroundings briefly and found the parking lot deserted. Then he looked back at Eragon and swallowed hard. "What _would_ be normal in a situation like this?"

Surprising everyone present, Eragon leaned forward and pressed his lips to Murtagh's. The kiss was as fleeting as the wing beat of a butterfly, but the impact rendered both silent for a while. Their eyes were locked, faces only inches away from each other.

"At least that's what _I_ would do," Eragon murmured after a moment.

"Is it…" Murtagh hesitated. "Does that mean that is it okay with us? For you? Because... for me it is."

The words were out of Eragon's mouth before he even thought about his answer. "How can this be wrong?" He closed the distance between them again, slowly this time, closing his eyes. He had not moved much, though, when he felt a hand behind his head, pulling him forward. He buried his hands in Murtagh's hair and crushed his mouth on the other's, desperate for the contact.

"You know," Murtagh gasped after a while, breaking their kiss shortly, "I'm not always this rough, I can be more-"

"Later," Eragon growled. He used the chance presenting itself by the slightly parted lips of the other and quickly deepened the kiss.

"Alrigh'" Murtagh mumbled into Eragon's mouth. His hand found their seatbelts and he unbuckled them. "Alrigh'" he mumbled again. Keeping their lips glued together, he tugged at Eragon, who got the clue and began to scramble to the other side of the car awkwardly. Murtagh pulled him onto his lap, so that Eragon was straddling him, blue eyes blazing. "Alright," Murtagh said one last time, voice husky. "Later it is."


End file.
